Baile Con La Bula
by Wendigo Heart
Summary: Romano thought the bulls were actually rather pathetic, allowing themselves to be slain. It was the matador's control that really ignited his passion. But he would forever deny a certain matador's passion; Romano refused to be his bull to slay. Spamano.
1. Hail Mary, Full of Grace

Let me start by saying that this is NOT A ONE SHOT. It will only be two or three chapters and it had more of a 'literature' feel to it than a 'fanfiction' feel in my opinion. This means it won't be terribly corny, nor will it be filled with gooey and idealized descriptions between Romano or Spain about each other. (Or at least I'lll try, because that habit is hard to shake! :P ) And also it can be mildly... disturbing at time the way their sexualities are described. (Especially if you catch onto WHY Antonio is doing his "business" WHERE he is doing it... and also in later chapters)

(Translation of Title: Dancing With The Bulls)

_This is a story about a famous local Spanish matador Antonio, and his Italian page boy Romano, who is about to learn bulls aren't the only things that Antonio loves to dance with. Nor are they the only things he loves to control and destroy. (Shitty!summary is shitty!)_

**MATADOR!SPAIN/ROMANO**

Spain in this story is more like Conquistador!Spain... Just as a warning for his almost aggressive nature later on.

**WARNINGS: **Not many... Some sexual situations and a bit of swearing.

**ALSO NO BETA USED! ENJOY.**

* * *

Antonio adjusted his _traje de luces_, dusting off the golden embroidered shoulders as he took a deep breath, hearing the roars of the crowd that signified that they were enjoying the show and thus far had loved the first two acts.

He smoothed out his red cape over the dowel as he stared out lifelessly at the ring, watching as the three _banderilleros_ herded the bleeding bull out the arena, it's black, strong legs matted with it's own hot blood. Its hooves had gone pink as the dust and sand under its stamping feet became like wet sand along the San Sebastian, warm, wet and heavy.

The bull's large neck and shoulder muscles had been practically severed by the barbed sticks, or _banderillas_, that hung off of it's sides, waving the proud Spanish colours like any creature bred in the passionate country would be proud to do.

Antonio felt pride weld up deep in his stomach from watching the animal stomp around, thrash about and try to evade the prodding to make him enter the large doors. The _banderillas_ flung around him with every stomp and kick, waving around a deep red and canary yellow. They were the colours of sunsets that lit up the Spanish skies every evening, and the colours that every man, creature and beast was willing to die for.

Antonio had no regrets, no guilty feeling at slaying such a beast. To die under the Spanish colours was to die a proud creature in God's eyes.

His free, thick and calloused hand wove through curly brown locks as he watched the bull get locked away, hearing its wild snorts and kicking from behind the door. He was a caged beast, a wild animal. These bulls were bred with the purpose to be in the arena once and once only. Any more times and they would learn, would strategize and would become cunning. To let an animal of such power becoming cunning, as man was to let one's self be diminished to that of a beast.

They were bred with the purpose of being killed and as such they were as the closest thing to a wild animal as Antonio would ever experience in his life.

The crowd roared as his own doors swung open meaning it was his time to enter and he was greeted with the sight of an empty ring. The round circle of sand had been matted in the creature's blood like a slaughtered sacrificial lamb that had been dragged around to bless the grounds.

He felt his _mozo de espada_ hand over his specially sharpened sword, his _ayuda_ standing close by, watching as there was a transfer of cold, sleek metal between palms. It was heavy and fit right in Antonio's hand as if it was an extension of his very arm. It made him powerful, made him feel close to God. To take an animal's life, as he was to do was an act only sanctioned by God.

He had previously prayed before the corrida to God at the chapel in the bullring, saying a dozen prayers to give him strength to take the beast's life and to pray for his safe return home.

Holding this sword made him feel above man.

The announcer said his name, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and then listed his previous achievements as a matador, which were quite lengthy and impressive for the young age of twenty-four. His hand tightened around the sword and the dowel as he prepared to enter.

Antonio smirked back to his two lancers who leaned against the edge of the bullring, along with the rest of Antonio's team who all had matching smirks. " _Go get them Toni!"_ One of the lancers said in heavy Spanish as he patted his shoulder roughly. "_God will be with you."_

Nodding he stepped forward and with only one step the crowd erupted into shouts of excitement. His white boots stalked through the dust, his tight black, gold encrusted pants stretching across trained muscles. His green eyes were concentrating ahead of him, but never seemed to take anything in as he did his round around the ring, doing the occasional flourish with his cape making the women in the crowd scream.

He turned, facing right at the big wooden doors, staring at the crack between them. He placed his feet in a strong stance and stared the beast straight on, waiting for the doors to open and release it.

Antonio felt his breath catch as the doors swung open, his heart racing wildly as the bull kicked and roared, as if steam was furling from it's nostrils. The bull's hooves made deep beating noises on the ground, like that of a wild, racing heartbeat. Antonio's lips curled into a smile and those green eyes gained life at the sight of the charging beast.

It was black, and its eyes were soulless as the devil himself. The bull charged forward straight for Antonio and his red cape, that teased it and waved back and forth as if to bait it, to make it fight of it's life as it bled out in the ring.

A loud cry of "¡_ole_!" filled the arena as Antonio twisted his arm, flourishing the cape to allow the bull to run right by it, enraging the beast.

Antonio let out a chuckle. It felt wonderful, it felt beyond words as the creature rushed past him, inches from snagging him with one of his horns. It was like a shot of _heroína,_ setting Antonio's soul on fire like no other thing could.

As he flourished again and avoided the bull a wild smile broke across his face.

It was sex to him. It had the same rush one would experience from bedding another. The same thrill of running your hands over a man or woman's skin was akin to the bull being so closed to you that you could feel it's hot breath on your hands. The ecstasy of being so close to death, like a close friend. Every look into the bull's eyes was a look straight into the pits of hell. It was dark, untamed and wild, just the way Antonio liked it.

It was like controlling a lover's body, deciding when to give pleasure to another. Antonio, like a lover, had control over the bull; dominance of it's being and it's life. More vital than pleasure or love put together.

* * *

Romano's hands gripped tightly around the edge of the bullring as he stared on with glossy eyes full of amazement. He watched his matador dance around the bull as if it was second nature, as if he was bred to do dance with swift and nimble feet.

He was fucking fantastic at what he did.

Romano was simply a _peon,_ only a lowly page. He was nineteen, and had only been with Antonio's team for a year and hadn't spoken often to him. But from what he could gather he tended to be this silent guy, almost creepy silent guy. He was super dedicated to his work, training every single moment to sculpt his body in a way that could not be mistaken by _any_ eyes to be anything but beautiful.

Romano groaned as he watched his taut legs move with the grace of a dancer around the animal, he watched his tight behind as he side-stepped and flourished along with the shouts of the audience.

He shook his head, scowling as he watched his technique instead, propping head up as he watched Antonio complete his tandas, doing a few basic side passes and then an impressive flourish.

The crowd was going nuts and the weirdo seemed to be responding, his flourishes becoming bigger, better as he thrusted the red right into the air, only to snap it right back down to earth before it had a moment to fly off. The bull was stalking him, charging him as the yellow and red sticks on his flanks bobbed up and down, the yellow now turning orange from it's blood.

Romano had always loved bullfighting since he was a boy and going to the shows with his grandfather had inspired him to leave with Antonio's brood when they had rolled into town the year before. But he had to admit it was more the bullfighters that he loved then it was the bulls.

He thought the bulls were actually rather pathetic, allowing themselves to be slain, like the dumb shits they were. It was the bullfighter's control that really ignited his passion. Romano wanted to be up there, waving that flag around like Antonio was, getting a taste of the feeling Antonio would describe as euphoric.

And plus, Antonio got any and all girls he wanted, and Romano couldn't lie. That was certainly a perk.

He was awoken from his daydreaming as the crowd chanted Antonio's name and his vision zoned in on the young brunette matador who entered the final stage, or _faena_. He and the bull now were so close that Romano thought they were swirling around into one being. The bull being dark, blood covered, and Antonio being light, his green eyes so full of life, as if he had gone and sucked it all from the tired and dying bull.

He was maneuvering the bull into a position to commit the _estocada, _and to finally thrust his sword right between its shoulder blades, slicing through the beast's little black heart. If he wasn't successful the first time he'd try with another sword and sever the bull's spinal chord. If the bull willed to live longer then Romano would step in, withdrawing the dagger attached to his hip and he would dig into the already open wound to try and completely sever it.

A lot rode on him making a clean kill though, and it seemed as the moment was approaching as Antonio got the bull right in place, whipped the red cape away from the tired bull. He drew his hand back, the blade shining in the hot Spanish sun before coming down in one skillful blow right on target.

* * *

Green eyes widened like a hungry animal as he felt the resistance of the bull's tough hide break and let way for his blade to slice through muscles and tendons. He was part of the bull finally. His arm administering its destiny, like the hand of God.

The moment of connection between arms and blade, blade and bull was intimate, sexual even in the most simple of contexts. The simplicity of two beings sharing the share body, experiencing the same experience, and the control and submission that came with it was so close to sex that Antonio found it hard to separate victorious excitement from arousal.

Antonio was panting, smiling like no other as he withdrew his sword, the crowd's cheers becoming so loud that it was impossible to hear the cries of the bull, the stagger of its blood soaked hooves as it wobbled away, grasping onto it's last few moments.

He wanted to hear it, wanted the crowd to disappear and be able to hear his power and his dominance taking its toll on the creature. So instead he watched with emerald eyes as the animal faltered and finally toppled over, thus ending the _tercio de muerte_.

Antonio watched as mules carted off the bull, it's tail and ears quickly cut off for him to keep later. The blood kept pumping through his body, pounding in his ears as he felt his insides tumble and turn with the same excitement he felt when he had first lost his virginity.

He tracked it's big black body as it moved all along the sand until finally it was pulled out from the ring and left this world forever and entered God's.

Antonio turned to the crowd, smiled a face splitting smile as he held his sword up, showcasing the bull's blood like a trophy. His eyes trained on the beast's life source as it slowly dripped down his sharp blade.

* * *

" Here you go you stupid beast." Romano growled as he shoved hay into the horse's trough roughly, staring into its beady eyes that blinked occasionally, batting away the off fly that came too close.

Romano ignored the way the lancer's horse pushed his head through her stall's open half door, as if begging to be petted. Her long, bony nose bobbed by Romano's head, encouraging him to reach out and touch it. " Ugghh… Okay, okay…" Romano grumbled before reaching out and running his fingers down her silky nose as she snorted a little, happy at his attention, getting her hot and wet breath all over his hands.

Romano withdrew his hand and scowled in disgust as he rubbed it off on the side of his brown breeches. " Disgusting." He shuddered, at the sticky feeling that he knew was probably horse nose goo.

He turned and leaned over to pick up the bale of hay by the thick string around it, and he couldn't help but sigh out in content as he made his way through the stalls and plucked out over half the bale of hay to shove it in the dirty feeding boxes.

There was a sort of calm that overcame him when he was alone to his chores in the stables. Sure he hated doing work, was dragged kicking and screaming and usually he fumbled and dropped things, which made the others angry.

But in the stables he worked at his own pace, by his own rules and if he messed it up or fell down it was only a secret between him and the horses, who by all accounts were pretty good at keeping secrets.

It was a sweet summer's morning, just before the sun rose fully in the sky and scorched Spain with all her might. At this time there was still a cool breeze reminiscent of the springs that had long left the land. The grass was green as ever and soft under Romano's feet as he had made his way to the stables earlier that morning. The breeze ruffled his auburn locks, tousling them all around and cooling his neck and back under his white cotton shirt. The air smelt almost sweet and the normal humidity that coated working, golden bodies with sweat had not yet come.

The sun that had touched his olive skin that morning now only filtered through the cracks in the barn, only wisps of that breeze making it through into the musty smelling barn.

Dust coiled around his feet as he went to the water facet and filled up a tin bucket in his hand. The sound of the cool water ringing against it was like music and Romano sighed as he ran his hands under it as it poured into the bucket. It was cool and he couldn't stop as he brought one handful of water to his mouth, quenching a bit of thirst that had crept up almost unnoticed. Had he realized he was sharing water with the livestock he wouldn't have done it, but he was too far gone in his day dreams to give a crap about such details.

He thought back to Antonio, his cape and his dance with the bull.

Romano imagined it was him up there with the crowd cheering his name over and over like it was a mantra. If he was in a dull green _traje de luces, _embroidered with real gold all down his thighs and chest. He wanted those stupid shoulder pads with the gold tassels and the dorky black hat that reminded him of Mickey Mouse. Man, did Romano want it all.

He imagined himself with a big, thick moustache that made him look both silly and ridiculously important. He'd stroke it while girls flocked around him, stroking his suit, slipping their hands inside the jacket and under his shirt, all along his hopefully hairy and super manly chest. (Because Romano had always been lacking in that department since puberty and was always secretly self-conscious of it.)

In this dream Antonio would be running around fetching HIS water, shining HIS shoes and washing HIS underwear. If you hadn't caught on that was also Romano's job, and the part he really hated.

Romano opened the big metal latch on a set of doors in front of him that led to where they kept the bulls that were going to be fought within the next few days. Romano never really like THIS part of the job, having to feed and sustain animals that would just get killed within the next few days. It was rather pointless and a waste of Romano's precious time.

He entered quietly, not wanting to make a lot of noise and disturb the creatures. God forbid he made noise and the bulls started thrashing around in their metal cages. The auburn haired boy couldn't stand to hear their hooves pounding the metal over and over again, searching for a weak spot in the bars.

So Romano made haste, pulling along his filled bucket, going to start at the end near the faucet and work his way down. He swung the bucket a little, the water sloshing around as he passed the eerily calm bulls that all just seem to stare at him with those same soul sucking eyes that made Romano shiver. Some of them pawed at the ground with their hooves, others cocked their head, showing off their horns but most stayed still, just staring.

It was about half way through the barn that Romano started to hear weird noises. He moved slowly, his feet making no sound in the dirt as he crept forward, the bucket close to his side.

The light from the slits in the barn lit up the air in front of him, making the dust and dirt dance around his face as it sent slits of sun all down his chubby cheeks, golden eyes and body.

He licked his dry lips as the noises became stranger. Little choked noises, hay rustling around and something wet. He wondering if maybe one of the bulls had maybe given birth, but knew that was ridiculous as the bulls were all male. Maybe they were just drinking? But he knew that wasn't the noise they made.

Romano kept walking to the end of the stalls and then rounded the corner holding his breath, expecting a bull to have escaped or some other animal to be ready to attack him.

As his breath caught in his lungs and his heart shot up into his throat, he knew it was a beast and an animal waiting for him, but not the type he was expecting.

His face went red as he stared at the scene in front of him. The young matador was lost in the hay, lounging across it with ease, his legs lazily lay out in front of him and his back cradled by the golden straw. Pieces of it were in his brown locks where clung to the nape of his neck and a bit stuck to his dewed forehead.

" Mnn…."

There he was, his legs open as his hands were wrapped around the thick protrusion that had come from his tight black breeches. Little pleasured noises escaped his lips as his hands moved up and down the considerable length, slick and wet noises filling Romano's virginal ears. The man's legs would twitch and his closed eyes would clench up, his noses scrunching up.

The same ignited dust and dirt floated around the man's head, and big cracks in the corner of the barn let in light that lit up his strong, chiseled features with gold. His brown curls looked like melting chocolate.

Romano could only muster up two words to describe the scene before him. Beautiful and disgusting.

" W-Wha-?" Romano squeaked out as his hand went slack, his hand lost grip and the bucket dropped from his hand to smack against the dirt floor, emptying it's contents all over the floor, almost reaching Antonio's feet. "A-Antonio!"

The brunette perked up, his closed eyes fluttering open to stare up at his page whose eyes had gone as wide as dinner plates. Antonio's hand didn't stop moving and the slick noises filled the thick silence between them.

Romano shook as his face went even redder, making Antonio think he looked an awful lot like a sputtering tomato. " Y-You're going to go to hell for this!" He gasped before rummaging in his pocket and pulled out a black rosary that, like a good Catholic, he kept on his person. He wound it around his olive hand, and clutched the cross at the end. " G-Go to confessionals! Now!"

Antonio merely sighed before groaning a little, his hand never faltering from its actions. He stared up with smoldering green eyes that seemed to call to Romano, reach deep within his soul and touch and kiss parts of him that he never dared explore. His grip tightened on the rosary and he began a Hail Mary like one would do after confessional.

"_Ave, o Maria, piena di grazia, il Signore è con te. Tu sei benedetta fra le donne e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno, Gesù. Santa Maria, Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori, adesso e nell'ora della nostra morte. Amen."_

" I-Italian…?" Antonio croaked as his hand sped up, watching the quivering auburn haired made squirm as he kept up his actions. " R-Romano, isn't it?" He chuckled lightly, sounding pleasured and relaxed as he lounged in the hay. The bulls snorted and their hooves clacked against their metal cages behind them.

Romano didn't feel the man, who was no better than the beasts he slain, deserved a response. Instead he kept clutching the rosary tightly as he watched his tendons becoming apparent as his tanned hand tightened and twisted around the long and wet organ. Antonio groaned out, his head dropping into the hay behind him so his throat was expose, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly between breathy noises.

Romano couldn't leave and Antonio had no intention of stopping so instead Romano kept the rosary clutched, closing his eyes so he couldn't see Antonio bucking and rolling his sculpted hips up into his hands, nor could he see the way his face screwed up as his breathing hitched and he spilled warm and translucent liquid all over his hands.

No, he didn't see that at all because he had his eyes closed, ignoring the sin like a proper Catholic. His golden eyes were not opened a crack to be able to view the sin… A-And if they were it was simple to be able to testify it to the Lord so the pervert could be sent to purgatory when he hit his hopefully early demise.

He opened his eyes fully when he heard the sound of a heavy buckle being done up, and he opened his eyes to see Antonio covered in hay standing there in his wrinkled white shirt that had a loose black ribbon around his neck and tight black pants. He just casually walked over to the shaking boy and eyed him with those alive green eyes that reminded him of when he had been dancing with the bull.

Romano went to open his mouth but he clamped it shut as he went red and his body went warm. Antonio had lifted his hand to his mouth, running his tongue lazily along the web between his forefinger and thumb, cleaning up.

The auburn boy stood dumbfounded as the young matador chuckled lightly and then winked one of his emerald eyes. He leaned in as close as Romano would allow and whispered. His voice was deep, low, like a purr. " _Tù__ tiene una erección_."

Romano went beet red, his heart shooting up into his throat as the Spaniard slunk away, rocking his hips in satisfaction as he walked past the caged bulls who kicked around in their cages. He walked past the slits of light that fell on him like peeks of sunshine before he disappeared out the side of the barn and out into the hot midday Spanish sun.

Romano quivered as he glanced down between his legs and at the crotch of his brown breeches and blushed hotly when he realized he did in fact have an erection that no amount of Hail Marys would get rid of.

* * *

___traje de luces =_ suit of lights (the traditional matador outfit)  
banderilleros = flagmen  
___banderillas = "little flags" (barbed sticks stabbed into bull's flanks during the second stage,_ tercio de banderillas,_ to make them lose blood and slow down)  
______mozo de espada = sword servant  
____ayuda = aide to the sword servant  
______peon = pages  
________estocada = the act of thrusting the sword  
__________tercio de muerte = "death third" (the final stage of bull fighting)  
__Tù____________ tiene una erección = "_You have an erection" (Thank you **BatDemonNinja** for the correction_________!)_

_Romano is doing one of the two common prayers you must do a certain number of times when you commit a sin. For example the Priest could say you should do three Holy Marys and five Our Fathers. The translation is as follows: _Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

**So now I have a question to ask...**

**Dance scene or no dance scene?**

**I want to have them dancing but I fear it may be too.. fanfiction-y... Your thoughts?**

**Review please! I REALLY want your criticism and your thoughts on this story!**


	2. Pray For Us Sinners

Woooowwww, thank you! You guys are so amazing, I got so many awesome reviews!

**Sorry it took so long... Fanfiction has been glitchy and wouldn't allow me to upload chapters... I found a website with a trick to get around the error and could post!**

I decided to sort of go with a dance scene... You'll see. But there is only one chapter after this ! This time instead of focusing on spanish terms, I went heavy on religion, at least in the beginning. And so you all know I'm not religious so forgive me if I get that or any spanish wrong (I don't speak a word of it!) correct me and I'll fix it! I hope you enjoy~!

**WARNINGS: **Language, sexual stuff, creepy Spain.

And uhh Antonio is a little less dark in this chapter I believe... But next chapter you will get the real deal.

NO BETA

* * *

" Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." Romano spoke to the grate that obscured him from Father Tomas' hawk-like gaze. Romano made the sign of the cross and then bowed his head a little as he settled down in the seat in the confessional booth. " It had been a week since my last confessional."

Father Tomas made a little grunt from the other side. He knew it was Romano from his voice, but he was not supposed to know these things and thus, never acknowledged them. The grunt though told Romano everything. He had been to confessionals possibly more often than anyone at the small local Roman Catholic church nearest Antonio's team's shacks by the bullring. "Confess your sins my child, as you know I hold no judgment. Only the Lord will bare judgment on your sins, lest they be absolved. And as such, leave no mortal sin unconfessed."

Romano fidgeted in his seat, rocking back and forth as his hands wrung around each other over and over again. He was nervous as hell because he was afraid his sins this time around would be too great for even God to ignore. "R-Right Father Tomas…" He sputtered out as he reached into his shirt and pulled out the golden cross his grandfather had given him as a child, and clutched it tightly. He couldn't believe he really was going to confess to such sins.

Romano swallowed heavily and felt a little light headed as he glanced at the grate knowing Tomas couldn't see him was no comfort at all. " Three days ago I witnessed sin." He couldn't stop his own shaking knowing he was coward for not just outright saying it all. " From a Catholic like myself… And I warned him he was going to rot in hell... But Father…"

Romano stalled and played with the hangnails around his nails, making him wince in pain as he pulled a few of them, trying to distract himself.

" Go on child…" Father Tomas told him, sounding bored because Romano's usual confessions were the usual about always swearing, using the Lord's name is vain and the occasional time he would lie and cheat. Little did he know this confession was quite unlike the others. "What sin was the man committing?"

Romano looked down at his nails as red blood began to pool around the edges of his nail form tugging at the bits of skin. He glanced up, looking at the curtain in front of him that shielded his face from any people who may be walking around in the church. He looked down at his shoes, and the way the light from under the half curtain showed all the dirt and scuffs on them. " The man was touching himself…. I mean… He always spoke of fighting the bulls as being euphoric but Father… Surely touching your self on that premise is morally wrong on so many levels." He wanted to add a few choice words but kept himself in check while in the confession booth.

The Father coughed a little, seeming to think of what to say. " Do you know this man was using the animals on some level to gain sexual blasphemy through himself?"

Romano paused, not exactly sure how to answer that. " I can't know for sure… But he was with the animals, lying in their bedding and it looked like he had probably just come back from training… It just seemed wrong for him to choose that place. If he had to commit such a sin, he should have at least had half the brain to do it within his shack!" Romano blushed further thinking of the scene again, with Antonio sucking on the web between his fingers. His body got hot and it reminded why he was really here though.

Father Tomas seemed to catch on. " My child you did everything one could do… Tell him to go to confessionals and say he will enter hell upon judgment. Why do I feel that you still have no owned up to your own sins?"

Romano had been toeing around the subject but then gripped the little ledge by the grate, holding onto the dark wood tightly. His hands had gotten really sweaty all of a sudden and he wanted to run. " My own… sins?" He said shakily and then laughed a little. " Yes... My apologies Father." He cleared his throat and stared at the dusty old curtain as it waved a little in the breeze that was coming from the opened church doors. " … When I witness his sin… M-My body found pleasure in it Father."

Father Tomas seemed to fall silent. It wasn't that Romano had found pleasure in it that was bad. Father Tomas frequently had young boys in his confessional telling him all the time they had grown aroused by the girls they played with or went to school with. This was not out of the ordinary, but what was rather strange for him to be aroused by a _hombre_. " You know son that though the bible strictly forbids homosexual activity, it does not exactly have jurisdiction over your thoughts. That is not to say that you should not repent for your sinful and immoral thoughts just to be safe…" He paused and Romano fidgeted.

" There…. There is more Father."

Father Tomas seemed to sigh a little bit, feeling disappointed that his most loyal confessor had the potential to rot in hell if he acted upon the thoughts, like most boys his age were often tempted to do. " Go on…"

Romano played with the golden cross, playing with the golden chain nervously as he sweated a little bit. He felt like God was in the confessional booth on the other side with Father Tomas, and not being able to see him only confirmed his suspicions. The Spanish were known to be superstitious and after living in Spain for almost all his life, some of it had worn off onto him, making him nervous of things he could not see. God was on the other side and he was deciding never to allow Romano to heaven. Romano kept sweating. " I….. Father I…. Later that night when I went to my bed I unintentionally recalled the thoughts and my body was aroused by it again. I had already taken a cold shower previously and to take another would make the others in the team angry. A page shouldn't be using up all their water…" He paused feeling like he wanted to run, run as fast as he could to the steps of the church and fling himself off them. Sure there were only seven of them but if he was lucky he would break his neck on one of them. " I tried to wait it out…. But it wouldn't work. I tried old tricks. I held my breath, scratched myself, everything."

A long drawn out silence willed the confessional booth as both parties stayed silent as Romano internally struggled to just spew it out.

" I… I masturbated against the Lord's will just as the sinner had… I touched myself and… I gave away my first orgasm to myself at the t-thought of that disgusting… pervert."

It was official. He was going to hell. Minos would be waiting with open arms to greet him like the disgusting man he was. He had been fucking saving it like a good Catholic for his wife, or at the bare least to a woman! Not to his damn hand at the thought of the bastard.

Father Tomas sighed out and then spoke in a stern voice that told Romano this was rather serious in his eyes. " I suggest that you do some serious reflecting my son. The Lord will forgive your sins, as that is what Jesus died for but understand that though you may be temporarily forgiven in the Lord's eyes, there are some things that even He will have a hard time ignoring."

Romano nodded but knew the old priest couldn't see him do so.

" Next time you feel the urge, think as though the Lord is there in the room with you, watching you. Do nothing you would not be proud to do in front of He Himself."

Romano shuddered at the thought of having God in his room the night before. God's eyes drilling holes into him as he arched off the bed, experiencing pleasure like he had never felt before as he muffled noises, his pants became wet with his excitement. All the while having the image of the young brunette lounging in the hay, sinning like there was no tomorrow in his head, causing his hand to speed up subconsciously.

Romano swallowed heavily and nodded. " Okay… Thank you Father, and for penance?"

The Father paused and then corrected him. " First an Act of Contrition. Let the Lord know you are sorry for sins. Only then may you rejoin with the Church which by sinning you have wounded." The Father then began for Romano to repeat_." O' my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and fear the pains of hell, but most of all, because they offend Thee, my God, who art all good and worthy of all my love. I firmly intend with the help of Thy grace to confess my sins, to do penance and to amend my life. Amen_." The priest spoke in Spanish but with something so intimate Romano repeated it in Italian.

Romano felt a little off about doing the contrition this time because though he did detest his sin, his body apparently did not. " And now for penance?" He was eager to get his penance, he felt the need to do the prayers and try to make it all better.

Father Tomas mused for a bit, humming a little as the thought. " Five Hail Marys and seven Our Lords, to be done as soon as possible."

" Thank you Father." Romano whispered before getting up from his side of the booth and opening the curtain, hissing as the light from the open church doors stung his eyes. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he turned to the alter, did the cross over his chest then filed out of the small church.

Antonio had another match tomorrow during a festival in town, and apparently bunches of important people were going to come. Some of the people coming were old matadors that often took on younger matadors as apprentices to train and teach them. They usually brought them all around Spain with them to tour and Romano was almost sure Antonio realized how important this match was and was training at that very moment.

Even at the mention of training Romano thought of the bastard. An image of Antonio training by spinning the cape flamboyantly stuck in Romano's head. Even though Romano knew from experience that the thing actually weighed a fucking tonne, Antonio would be flourishing it like it weighed nothing, but all the while breaking a sweat under that open necked shirt he wore in training.

Antonio would walk off the ring, the sun beating down onto him, crisping up his golden skin to an almost caramel colour. He'd pick up his rag sitting across the wooden boards and run it down over his face, across his neck and would slip it into his shirt and pat down his glistening chest. He'd pick up his leather canteen and choke down mouthful after mouthful of sun-warmed water before dumping the rest onto his head.

He'd shake out his head, so droplets flew everywhere and his damp curls stuck together, water dripping down his brow and over prominent features. A pink tongue would slip out to lick the water from his lips, as his hands would pluck at the now translucent white shirt that stuck to his built body in all the right places. Maybe a golden, calloused hand would dip down, crawling all along his body as his green eyes lit up as his hand pushed past his buckle and reach down in the crotch of his jeans to grab onto his manhood. It was like he knew Romano was watching, but acted like there was no one there to see. He'd let out a flutter sigh as he lounged against the bullring, toying with himself as he turned and eyed him with those excited emerald eyes.

Romano steamed up, his face going red as he realized he was starting to let his mind wander into sin. Never mind wander, he was fucking drowning in sin and he was barely out of the church.

Fuckity fuck. Shitity shit. Cunitty cunt.

Romano was going to hell.

* * *

This was exactly what Romano needed. He glanced down at his shot of tequila in one hand and then to the lime in the other, and then his eyes trailed up to the two girls who were all smiles and giggles around him. Girls and tequila.

The tavern he was in played up-beat mariachi band like music, while the waitresses danced around the tables in barmaids' dresses. It was smoky from all the pipes and cigars smoking, but the air still had the smell of the heavily perfumed evening air from the open arched doorway. A giant bull's head hung behind the bar above the dusty bottles of rum and tequila and it had beads wrapped around its neck from Carnival.

" To my lovely ladies, a toast." Romano smiled as he raised his shot of tequila, the two girls doing the same. He then licked the salt off from between the web of his thumb and finger, downed the burning liquid and quickly bit down on the lime. The tavern he was at was the biggest in town, but it didn't compare to others in the area, so the tequila wasn't as good as in the other places, and as such burned like hell.

" So tell us more Roma…" The busty one said using the nickname he despised as she played around with her sangria, stirring it gently.

The other one giggled and nodded excitedly. " Yea! Tell us Romie! Tell us about your bullfighting!"

Romano may have lied a teensy bit and told them that he was a matador who was in town to compete at tomorrow's fight. But really it was only a tiny lie because he WAS going to be there at tomorrow's fight, and he was working alongside a (perverted) matador…. He just wasn't IN the ring per say… But they didn't need to know that.

" Well… Many people describe bullfighting as almost euphoric." He was stealing the perverts words but, he owed him at LEAST that much. " It's all about control and dominance... You have to bait the bull, deceive it into running after your flag and then you get so close you can feel it rush by you and from then it's like a dance."

One of the girls stirred her drink, looking up at Romano with glossy eyes. " That sounds… almost romantic."

Romano shrugged as he drank back some more Spanish beer. He wiped his mouth clean then leaned forward to rest on the bar on his elbows. " You could say that I guess… A matador has to know how to tempt and deceive, but he must also know how to move with the animal, when to give and when to take movements. He needs to predict the beast's moves before he commits them." He smiled a charming smile reserved for fine ladies such as the two in his company. " You have to have complete control of the situation."

They both let out identical fluttering giggles at this. " Tell us more! Yea tell us about the last bull you slayed!"

Romano puffed out his chest and little and tried to look as confident and smug as possible and opened his mouth to tell the two Spanish ladies exactly what he had done when a dark and deep sounding voice filled his ear. It smelt like expensive alcohol and spices. " Yes Roma…. Tell them more about the last time you slayed a bull." It was followed by a deep chuckle.

The auburn-haired man went rigid and his head turned up to see Antonio inches away from his face, holding a shot of tequila in one hand and a lime in the other, a very cocky and sly smile on that ugly mug of his. " I-… I…"

Romano head was spinning and his face was flushing, and not because of the booze. That sneaky bastard, he _knew_ that Romano had never fought a bull in his life. He tried to play it cool, not letting it get to him that the girls suddenly went all doll eyed for Antonio, completely ignoring his existence.

" Go on…. You were saying something about having to have complete control of the situation." He cocked his head to the side a little before he gave the girls a small wink. " I'm curious, enlighten me on how one would do that…"

Romano's stomach bubbled with anger as he teased him by using his own words against him, because at the moment Romano had no damn control of the situation… Antonio did.

" Oh, my apologies… Good evening ladies." The women were oblivious to Romano even sitting there now. And satisfied with that Antonio reached between his fingers, behind the lime to run his tongue all along the web of skin between his thumb and finger, the grainy white salt sticking to his tongue.

Romano went rigid at the sight of the young matador licking at that particular bit of his skin that he had licked once before in Romano's presence, but that time it had been his own seed he was licking at like a kitten. It was enough to make his face go red. Antonio seemed to sense he made the connection because his green eyes lit up with a lust-heavy glow before downing the shot and biting down on the lime, smirking around the green rind.

" You see ladies…. " Antonio began after he clacked his tongue a few times, tasting the tequila on the roof of his mouth. "What Romano here was describing was a feeling he has no real experience in."

Romano shot Antonio a deadly stare; DARING him to continue and expose him as a fraud to the two women he was interested in.

Antonio ran a tanned and calloused hand through his crown curls, tousling them so that it gained its perky volume. Antonio's hair was often greasy from training and baths were rationed, so his brown curls had almost a luster to them under the warm, golden glow of the oil lamps around the bar. He motioned the bartender over and then ordered himself and Romano's ladies shots of tequila.

When he got them he picked his up and gazed in the musky glass and then looked up at the women with a mysteriously handsome smile. " Bullfighting is like making love." Antonio sent a look over to Romano that made a shiver roll down his spine. " It's about two beings being so close to becoming one, so intertwined that separating them becomes almost impossible. When you feel the bull's breath on your hands it's like having a lover touch your body in the most intimate ways. Ways that transport you into another realm of being. Then destroying the creature you have created such a connection with could only be described as…. Orgasmic."

The giggling girls gasped at how honest Antonio was being. What an honest, dirty little Catholic mouth. But to Romano's astonishment the girls only leaned further in, seeming to love bathing in this almost 'rebellious' man. " How... naughty! Who knew bullfighting could be so erotic." One of the girls said, Antonio's bold words becoming infectious.

Antonio nodded and then turned to Romano motioning to him. " To be a good bullfighter, one needs to know their sexuality through and through, and have control over it. The reason this man, Romano, has no place filling your pretty heads with pretty lies about bullfighting is because a man of his sexual stature could never possibly understand or begin to comprehend the experience." He watched in amusement as Romano began to go as red as an over-ripe tomato, his face contorting up in rage and embarrassment as he blatantly called him a virgin in front of the all the girls. " Until one has experienced the throes of passion they cannot claim to know how it feels. It is like a blind man describing colours."

The bustier one did her shot and then gazed right past Romano to Antonio and batted her eyelashes a little. " Are you implying you are extremely experienced in those sorts of activities?" She giggled again, seeming to be excited by Antonio's apparent skill in that field.

Antonio wasn't looking at her, but his green eyes fell on the grumbling Italian whose hand tightened around his drink to the point that he was surprised it didn't break. Romano looked at him, as if to say 'what-you-lookin'-at?' and then Antonio slyly smiled. " Yes, you could say I'm _rather experienced_." His eyes never left Romano.

The girls flaunted over him as he took his shot straight and gave Romano a small wink.

"_Fucking terrible Catholic…" _Romano grumbled as he turned away and buried his head, not wanting to be reminded by just what Antonio was implying. Romano didn't need another reminder of the day in the barn. He didn't need to remember the man's pink tongue swiping along the crook between his fingers, tasting his _experience._

" What was that Romano?" Antonio asked grinning with that stupid shit-eating grin of his as he knocked back half a shot that one of the girls had given him to share. " I didn't quite catch that."

Romano propped his head up on his folded arms and scowled heavily, making him look extremely _poco atractivo_. " Fuck off." He grumbled as he watched the girls frown softly at his swearing, their bodies curling in closer to Antonio's radiating warmth. They hissed at each other quietly about how gross Romano was when he scowled. He then couldn't help but scowl at the girls too, for leaving him in favour of the bastard. They both yelped a little bit, knowing they were caught and then grabbed onto Antonio's strong tanned arms. " You have a match tomorrow _Se__ñor." _He began, grumpy sarcasm dripping from his voice. " Shouldn't you be training, not drinking? What sort of matador are you anyways? Do you have any idea how important tomorrow is?"

A brown brow arched in surprise. " Oh~ It is _muy lindo_ how much you care Romano." He said in a shit-eating tone to match his shit-eating grin. He folded his arms across his chest as the two women hung off of them, but he seemed to really pay them no heed.

This was the most the two of them had ever exchanged, and this was the most social Romano had ever seen Antonio. But he had the feeling this wasn't really him. He had seen a much darker side to him over and over again in the ring and that one time in the barn, the side of Antonio that was passionate in the worst possible way. It was like this side of him was put on just to piss Romano off. It was plausible, but Romano was also a self-absorbed and an arrogant ass.

" Ahhh let us not allow this man to spoil our evening… Hm?" Antonio smiled as he turned to cart the women away, who just kept giggling. Romano had previously thought their giggling was cute. Now it was just fucking annoying.

Romano didn't want to watch them but his golden eyes trailed after them as Antonio carted them off to a now cleared out area of the bar where drunken patrons had begun to dance to the lively Spanish music.

" Fucker." Romano spat, turning back around like a grumpy old man to knock back a few more shots alone.

* * *

Romano's glass slipped around his rum soaked finger as he spun his glass around like a dancer on the tavern's bar. He listened as it clattered to the bar, but it seemed like the sound was delayed because by the time he had heard it, his finger was spinning in the air.

He blinked a few times lazily, his golden eyes zooming in and out of focus, trying to see if he had spilt anything, but found it hard to see anything, let alone care.

Shit… Maybe he had drunk a bit too much.

Romano squinted, blinking off rhythm as he ran a hand up and through his auburn bangs, raking them back. He sucked in a deep breath that tasted like the tobacco smoke from the heavy Spanish man's pipe beside him. Nope, not maybe… He had.

Romano grumbled as he let out that breath that he knew smelt like hard liquor, because it surely tasted like it. He looked around then up at the bull on the yellow stucco wall. Oh god, it looked like it was spinning, contorting into the devil. It didn't take a lot to make those beasts look like demons sent from Beelzebub himself, but this bull's eyes just seem to catch fire, the glow from the oil lamps making it look like Dante's inferno was dancing in those soulless, fake, glass eyes.

Romano's head lulled around, his world spinning as his hands gripped onto the edge of the bar, trying to hold onto something tangible to keep him from throwing up. Waves of nausea hit him like they always did when he got really drunk. But he rode them out, sitting the in his bar stool, letting his stomach churn.

Soon they were gone though and Romano was left in his dizzying world. Sounds were blurry and jumbled, colours just blending together in a nauseating array of colours that seemed to almost be unreal to his foggy eyes.

Everything was spinning and all his senses were blending together into one singular scent that cloaked over him like a suffocating blanket.

So it was no surprise that Romano barely heard the alluring whispers in his ear, coaxing him out of his seat as he lolled his head away. He couldn't feel the hands slip possessively around his thin shoulders, or the smell of tequila and spices coating his cheeks.

There was just this strong pull that moved his limbs, and willed him to leave his seat in a blur. The singular sense was warm, warm and somehow dangerous. As if it was like a tepid bath of water that would lull him into a false sense of security. Slowly the heat would be turned up. The water would prickle his skin was nips of intense heat and little tiny bubbles would dance around the bottom of the bath as his body began to swell, his entire body becoming red like a tomato. Then slowly it would be in a full boil, big round bubbles dancing around his body, bubbles that would turn a sick red as his skin would peel off and expose the inner workings of his body. He would swell then up to the point of bursting open, his eyes rolling back in the deadly heat.

This warmth was like the warm water that they boiled frogs in, the warm water that would slowly be turned up without notice until it died. The warmth threatened to kill Romano softly.

But he went with it anyways as it guided him, his body rocking as hands slipped all over his body, wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

Antonio smirked slyly as he leaned in, holding Romano close as they rocked back and forth in the crowd, that was by that time so packed that no one would notice two men dancing within the tangle of bodies. Had people taken notice he would know either way, with shouts and screams…. Maybe some holy water being thrown, but maybe that was pushing it a bit.

Antonio looked down at his partner, the hazy eyed brunette who complied so easily with his hands on his waist. Antonio maneuvered his hips to the spicy Spanish music meant for the pasodoble. Romano was wasted off his face, but he seemed to have good enough motor control to be able to keep up with Antonio.

He watched in amusement as Romano rubbed his bright red cheek up against his chest and then Antonio craned his head in to leave secretive kisses down Romano's neck, that slowly turned into possessive bites and open-mouthed kisses that made the smaller man's knees weak.

Antonio was marking his territory.

Some people could examine this situation and say that Antonio was taking advantage of Romano, and even Antonio knew they were probably right. But frankly, he didn't care because the alcohol pulsing through his veins told him to grab hold of the brunette and make him his own.

Romano's hip rocking slowly began to happen on its own, and Antonio instead rested his hands on the sharp curves of his hips, that dove down past the hem of his pants.

He leaned in close as Romano murmured into his chest, his lips right up close beside his ear. " … You are a walking contradiction Romano…" He said in his deep sultry Spanish, and the small Italian merely lolled his head a little, before his hands ran up Antonio's chest sloppily. Antonio grinned and then licked the shell of Romano's ear, making the Italian mewl out. " You say you are a devoted Catholic and yet you drink yourself into this state." He chuckled darkly and then bit Romano's ear, earning a slurred yelp. " And you say I'm the one going to hell…. _Puto hip__ó__crita."_

" Mnnn… Fuuu-ck…. O-Off…" Romano made a gurgling noise as he licked his alcohol-wet lips.

Antonio's hands dipped further to stroke the curve of Romano's ass through his pants. Antonio had felt many bottoms in his life, both male and female and though Romano's was certainly not the best he has felt; it was too skinny and bony for his liking, but the alcohol fooled him into thinking his hands were created for the sole purpose of touching the boy's body and fooling bulls.

" I like that though _cariñito_…" He purred into Romano's ear, using a lover's name towards the boy as he maneuvered Romano's body in what could only be described as a sloppy pasodoble. " You are a lying little hypocrite, who sins far too much to be considered themselves Catholic. You are self-righteous and frankly rather rude." He smiled darkly, his green eyes swimming with a million un-namable emotions. Had Romano not been two shades to the wind he would have noticed a similar lust in those dark and predatory eyes as when he fought the bulls. He pressed his spiced and freckled lips to the shell of Romano's ear. " You'd be fun to dance with, just like the bulls." And on time with that he swiveled Romano's hips to grind up against him.

Romano let out a little choked noise. " Y-You… son of a bitch." He growled as his hands on Antonio's shirt tightened into fists. Even through the screen of tequila he _knew_ what Antonio was implying. He had dominated those bulls to the point of sexual aggression, and he had pleasured himself in their presence. He was reducing him not only to a beast that he could control, but also to one that he could sexually gratify himself with.

Antonio merely smiled dangerously in response.

The spinning and rocking of bodies seemed to speed up, Antonio guiding Romano's body to the passionate and intense music as if he was a doll in his arms. Or maybe Romano was a puppet, whose strings he pulled, making him dance.

Antonio's steps became more feverish as he swung Romano around, their chests practically pressed together. He watched Romano's eyes glaze over, his jaw go slack.

What was compelling him to move the Italian as such? What compelled him to leave the women that had previously given him company in order to pursue and hunt down the brunette?

Interest and curiosity, most likely. The image of the man standing before him, his pants tight and rosary outstretched was enough of a contradiction to inspire anyone's curiosity.

Antonio craned his brown head down in the dizzying, dim tavern lights to nose at Romano's pulse. He ran his head all along Romano's neck and head, rubbing it slowly up as he took him in. He smelt his auburn hair, which smelt like the tobacco smoke that was like heavy smog in the tavern and his skin smelt musky, like old sweat that still clung on him from that day's labor. Antonio's tongue stroked his skin, tasting that old salty sweat. It was like tasting Romano's day, having his hours of toiling in the sun coat his taste buds.

He could taste his chores and his work gloves that smeared dust and dirt all over his neck and shoulders. He could taste the hot Spanish sun beating down on Romano's skin with all her might. He could taste little brown freckles that popped up all around the collar of his shirt as she left kisses all over his body.

" Mnn… ughh.."

Antonio heard groans from his partner and continued to dance the dance of bull and matador, spinning around the Italian, to the point that in his blur of tequila, their bodies collided in a swirl of caramel, olive, auburn and brown. He could almost see the red of the flag being twirled around, taunting Romano's body to attack his. Romano's hands like the bull's horns, missing vital parts of Antonio with each attack, but instead of his sides and stomach it was his manhood, which Romano's sloppy hands would barely brush up again.

He wanted to get rid of those pesky clothes so he could merge in such a primal state. Antonio wanted Romano on all fours, like an animal.

Drunken hand ran all over him and lit Antonio's eyes on fire at the response. Slowly the hands curled into fists. " A-Antonioooo…" Romano seemed to moan against is chest. Antonio's heart started to race.

" What is it, _mi amor_?" Romano seemed to groan at the more intimate version, as if humiliated that he couldn't even have the decency to say _mi querida_ and spare Romano the humiliation of being referred to as something more deep then an infatuation or an object of lust.

" A-An- I…"

" _Si?" _He leaned in close to capture ever word that rolled off that tongue.

"**BBLLEEUUGGGGHHHH.**"

Antonio's eyes widened as Romano turned his head, leaned over, and was luckily close enough to a potted cordyline that his vomit didn't project across the bar.

Antonio stood there, his hands looped around Romano's arms, his eyes like two wide green saucers as the man in his arms emptied a dozen tequilas into the potted plant.

He sighed as Romano heaved, maneuvering himself so any on-lookers would merely see someone assisting another and not the close dance they held moments before. " Romano Romano…" He tsk'ed, his face screwed up in impatience and annoyance. He hauled him up when he was done, staring at the foggy eyed Italian who just slumped over in his arms, on the verge of passing out. " Let's bring you home, _si_? Get you cleaned up…" He watched as Romano's hazy eyes tried to concentrate on him. " You better be ready for tomorrow's match, _resacoso_ or not." Romano pressed the knuckles of his shaky hands to his eyes, rubbing them.

" F-Fuck off... I'll be ffiinnee."

Antonio merely chuckled darkly. " We shall see tomorrow then, won't we _mi amor_?"

* * *

_hombre_ = man  
_Minos_ = In greek mythology he is the judge of the dead in Hades. Italians, the French and other cultures often take from Greek mythology.  
_Carnival =_ Similar to mardi gras, it is a festival before Lent which include masquerades and parades.  
_poco atractivo = _unattractive  
_muy lindo = _very cute  
_pasodoble _= a spanish dance that is usually danced during bullfights because it simulates the bull and matador.  
_puto hip__ó__crita = fucking hypocrite  
____cariñito = _darling  
_mi amor = _my love  
_mi querida = my dear  
__resacoso = _hungover 

_(Please correct me if any of these are wrong!)_

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter.. I'm not OVERLY happy with the ending, but I'm so focused on my big art project that it's hard to get it right with my mind being elsewhere._

_The next chapter will have smut. Though *awkward laugh* I don't know how much you all will like it... It's not exactly like my other smutty stories. _

**_REVIEWS MAKE ME A VERY HAPPY AUTHOR AND IT MAKES ME WRITE FASTER~! Tell me how you are liking this sort of Spain :D? Or just general thoughts? Critiques are lovely~!_**


	3. Now And At The Hour Of Our Death

*gets on her hands and knees and begins begging for forgiveness* OHHH GOOODDD I'M SO SSSOOORRRRRYYYY! PREPARE FOR AN APOLOGY.

I'm so, so, so sorry... Life has just been unreal in the past few months. As I had written I broke my elbow and it was really, really bad... Like just now I'm fully going back to work and I still don't have total movement back. Then when I was able to write, being a senior, I had a lot of university stuff to take care of (And I got accepted to Waterloo!), I had prom, exams lots of end of the year crap. The summer came and I've literally had no free days because I finally got my licence (there was a strike when I was 16 and after that I just got lazy XD) so I've been the "shuttle bitch" and have been driving everyone around all the time... As well as a lot of spending times with friends and family before I move. BASICALLY I've been so busy, and really not in much of a writing mood once I got down time... So, please forgive me for the wait. You have all been very patient, and that means so much to me. Thank you to everyone who wished me a speedy recovery :)

NOW, for the actually story...

**Warnings:** strong language, sexual themes.

**NO BETA USED. And as always, if you review and know Spanish PLEASE correct me! I don't know a single word! XD**

* * *

Birds chipped loudly, permeating the woven curtains that kept the night's chill and the day's heat out from Romano's shack. Their incessant chirping was loud, obnoxious and more importantly, migraine-inducing.

"Fuuucccckkkkk offffffffff." Romano grumbled as he turned over on his tattered sheets and moldy second-hand mattress. He smashed his pillow over his head and ground his nose right into the old smelling sheets.

Fucking birds, and their fucking chirping that sounded like Romano's old teacher Sra. Mendez. She would scrape her nails down the dusty chalkboard when the schoolhouses' occupants, straight from their farm chores, would be rambunctious and loud.

Yea they sounded just like that… But much, much worst considering the massive hangover that pounded in his head.

"Uggghhhhh…" Romano groaned out as he turned over in his bed, instead choosing to flop onto his back and stare at the ceiling. It had cracks in it that let in the morning sun, and when it rained those cracks turned into Romano's worst nightmare, with rainwater dripping steadily onto his nose, cheeks and blankets. His shack was often covered in small cooking pots and opened tins for beans, all to collect rainwater that came in from the ceiling. The sound of water dripping against tin was a comfortable noise, a noise that was as calming as the smell of baking bread.

When Romano was a child and his parents were still alive, he had lived on a quaint little farm with his Mamma, Papa and fratello, Feliciano. They farmed tomatoes and owned a few little brown dairy cows that kicked at Romano every time he tried to milk them, and would sit happily for Feliciano, letting him pat their flanks and kiss the bridge of their nose. Than again, everyone loved Feliciano.

It would rain often in their region and Romano could recall many nights when he and Feliciano would sit in their double bed, talking about nonsense that had long been forgotten and listening to the rain on the tin roof. They pretended that it was a tin drum making music to rock them to sleep.

When their parents had died, they had moved to Spain to live with their Nonno who had left their Nonna and fled to Spain when their father was just a young boy. They had always been told he was an evil man for leaving their father, but really he was a nice man who even taught them how to draw.

But when living with his Nonno, he and Feliciano would sleep in separate beds and have to listen to the dull patters of rain on the clay roof. Sometimes they would put cans on the windowsill, hoping to catch some raindrops to hear the sound again.

But now looking at the empty bean cans perched in waiting on his broken table, Romano could feel nothing but waves of nausea. Even the thought of beans was turning his stomach, pleasant and useless nostalgia aside.

He tasted the roof of his mouth, making a clacking noise as the dried out saliva coated his tongue with a foamy, gooey white substance of dehydration. He glared at the beans cans as his stomach churned.

Fuck he tasted disgusting. If Romano could name it, as if he was a taster of fine foods with a refined palate or some shit, that it was low grade tequila (ugh the worst kind), vomit and… hmmm, something spicy that he couldn't 't name. Romano groaned as he shimmied up in bed and pressed the heels of his hands against his heavy and sunken eyes. His hands felt warm from being under his blankets all night and served like little heating packs on the tender flesh. " What the fuck happened last night?" He mumbled out as his head pounded as he heard the bustling of the morning people outside his shack, and the daylight burnt his retinas.

Running his hands all over his face, Romano pulled the bags under his eyes, making noises like the blasphemous living dead as his hands ran over his cheeks and then down his neck. His fingers rubbed at some sore areas of his neck and it was at the moment he realized…. He was dressed in something different then last night.

" What the-." Romano's eyes grew wide as he felt around his neck in confusion and panic. When the hell did he get dressed in his black shirt? He felt at the neckline, running his fingers along the hem as if he couldn't believe he was real. If he was THAT drunk that he couldn't remember, then how had he changed? Peeling back his tattered sheets he peered down with skeptical golden eyes and saw that…. He was even in different briefs.

He squirmed in bed, looking down at the black briefs that he knew he hadn't worn the day before….

Romano glanced around feverishly, as if expecting someone to appear from the shadows and admit to the act of seeing him naked. He would slaughter them… _peon_ or not.

His wandering eyes looked over to his rickety wardrobe, with its grey paint chipping and the wood beginning to rot after generations of use. There usually was Romano's shallow clay bowl that he used to wash his face in the morning. Usually a ratty rag hung over it, but instead he saw that it sat on his little bedside table, and the ratty rag swam in the fresh water that looked right out of the pump. Romano dipped his fingers in, feeling the smallest hint of cold.

He ran those hands over his face, down his neck and down the shallow dips of his collarbones. His skin was smooth, and other than cold sweats he felt strangely… Clean.

Romano kept rubbing his skin, and in the end just massaged his stiff shoulder, as he tasted the wooonnddeerroouusss medley of disgusting flavours that danced in his mouth. His tongue ran over his teeth, feeling the grit that coated his teeth from having not cleaned them. He groaned and moved to toss his feet over the edge and sit up with the intent of rising his mouth out and try the best he could to clean his teeth. But when he went to stand a wave of nausea assaulted Romano; his mouth started to water, and a gagging feeling squeezed at his stomach.

" Shit." Was all he could make out as his face paled green and he dashed out of his shack, nearly knocking over the bowl of water in his attempts to make it out. He went onto his rickety excuse for a porch, his eyes growing wide as he leaned over the rotting railing and-

Well, that was gross.

Romano heaved some more over the side, emptying his stomach out onto the dusty, worn out grass around his shack. He ignored two concerned voices from some of his distant neighbours who were on their own porches having a morning smoke from their pipes. He simply waved them off as he rested his head against the railing, his mouth even more revolting now than it had been before.

His body and legs shook as he tried to stand after a few minutes had passed, and he wiped his mouth. Stumbling off the porch he walked the minute distance to the little herb garden that housed the stuff needed to not reek of filth, and to tend to the daily lives of the bullring workers. It had been created by a few of the local women as thanks to the workers years ago. The people didn't have much here, but hey… They still helped out where they could.

Hmm… Romano's hand glided over the thyme for pain relief, the mint and ginger for nausea, and lavender… Well no one really knew why they planted lavender. There were other things too that Romano didn't care enough to memorize.

His olive fingers plucked some mint leaves and lavender because it surprisingly smelt nice to his upset stomach. He popped the mint leaves into his mouth and chewed them to rid him of the gross taste that lingered as he waltzed back to his room.

When he arrived he used the water in the shallow basin to swish in his mouth spitting into one of the cans, then rubbed his teeth down with the rag. Just because he lived around unkempt working hands didn't mean he had to behave like one. No, Romano prided himself in doing the best he could for his own hygiene.

Now that the cold sweats had begun again, Romano placed the lavender in the shallow bowl and then dunked the rag in. He'd have to give himself a sponge bath or else when he worked in the ring the dirt would stick to his skin and he would gain a layer of grime.

He shivered as he pulled the black cotton tunic like shirt from his body, the cold air nipping at him as he sunk down onto his creaking bed. He reached over into the shallow bowl and pulled out the drenched lavender smelling cloth, to ring it out. The water dripped steadily from the ratty cloth and back into the basin, and once he was satisfied, Romano's groggy and slightly shaking hands spread it out on his olive hand and ran it over his legs, shivering a little as the lukewarm water went cold from the draft against his skin.

Romano concentrated as he rubbed up his stomach, past old, small scars and scratches from working at the ring, and then…. He went up to his arms, with the terrible workers tan, then to his chest, craning his gaze down at his goose bump-covered olive skin.

The cloth brushed away the sweats, and he slowly slid the lavender cloth over across his upper chest, just around his collarbones. Romano saw a patch of dirt still there and scrubbed. " Come on of you stupid skin stain, I am in no fucking mood right now." He hissed at the patch of dirt, as he scrubbed harder with the ratty cloth.

Nothing. It wasn't coming off.

Maybe it was a bruise? Romano's auburn brow jutted up in curiosity as he reached up and pressed right into the patch of darkened, purplish skin. " Ah!" He winced as pulled his hand back. Certainly a bruise.

But why the fuck did he have a bruise there? Did he stumble and fall on something last night? God, he wasn't THAT clumsy! Scrunching up his face he pushed with his thumb at the skin, to pull it back a little to gaze down at it easier. It was a bruise… But upon further inspection…

Romano's eyes grew wide. There was little red spots all in it, as if something had gone and tried to suck the blood right out of his neck, and almost had succeeded. The mark was no bigger than a peso, but was a deep purple, like a bruised plum.

It couldn't be…. Could it?

Then the cloth dropped right into his lap, across his thigh, his hand in the air practically twitching. There wasn't just that one sinful little mark; instead they littered his front, all over his chest, bruising the dips and curves of his neck, and big, nasty ones right in the hollow of his neck.

" I-….. I…. Oh… J-Jesus… fucking Christ…." Romano sputtered as his fingers searched them, wincing at each. "… What the FUCK HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?" He finally gained the brainpower to function and then yanked his hands away.

Foggy words filled his brain, like fog spilling over a warm brook on a cool morning... Words that clouded his mind and blurred his senses.

'_Tu eres tan hermoso.'_

Green eyes filled his vision. Fiery and alive green eyes looking at him like a predator. Husky and spicy alcohol doused breath right against the nape of his neck, making the hairs stand on end at the base of his neck. He could remember a tumbling of bodies and the screaming screeches of the springs in his bed as two bodies collapsed onto it.

'_Quiero comerte __todo depende...'_

No, no, no, no, no! Romano didn't want to remember anymore! He didn't want those un-godly images disgracing his being. But the memories kept coming, like the vomit from his body minutes ago.

Breaths hitching in his throat as a nose nuzzled the crook of his neck, followed by a hot tongue tracing the outlines and contours of his olive skin. Then his lips…. Teeth nipping hungrily with the intention of devouring him alive. Hoarse breath that whispered such naughty things that would make the old Pope roll over in his grave… and make Romano roll over on the bed to let the predator have him.

'_Gimotear, mendigar como un animal.'_

Romano's face went ten shades darker.

HIM. WAS IT HIM! OH JESUS AND MOTHER MADONNA PLEASE LET IT BE ANYONE BUT HIM.

Let it be the plague, a skin infliction, or a horrible and incurable disease… Just NOT HIM. Maybe it was just a dream…. It had to be, he'd never let that dirty sinner touch him! Right?

Please let it be a dream.

Let anyone touch him, take advantage of him…. Anyone but Antonio.

* * *

Antonio grabbed a fistful of chalk and grinded it between his bare hands, spreading it all along his palm and digits. He dusted it off by smacking his big, dark laborer's hands together, watching as a cloud of white chalk surrounded him, some landing on his freshly polished black shoes, and the rest disappearing into the hazy smog of the hot Spanish midday.

Antonio's bright green eyes looked to his right as his _mozo de espada_ handed him his sword as always, letting it settle in his chalked up hand. It fused right up with Antonio's hand, the sword seeming to weave in with melting skin, until there was a mess of softer iron from the interior, hard and resistant steel from the outside of the sword, and Antonio's flesh all merged into one.

"_Ahhh, it feels good to hold it again, si Antonio?" _The _ayuda _said in excitement as he watched on, leaning over the railing of the holding cell. " _We polished her up just for today's match." _The boy grinned happily, before sticking a small widdled-down piece of wood into his mouth, sucking on it as it bounced on his lip.

" _Si, thank you Marco."_ Antonio replied courteously as he spun the sword a few times in his hand, watching the blade spinning, his green eyes growing darker at the image forming in his head. He could see the blade plunging right through the beast's thick hide, slipping right between its ribs and straight into the cold little heart. Feeling it lose its rhythm around the cold and foreign metal, and the sounds of snorts of hot air dying leaving its snout.

Antonio's toes curled at the prospect and he had to keep himself from lunging over the bullring and stalking across the dusty dirt to the big wooden doors. He wanted to ram his fingers into the slit, where rotting wood would crumble and his fingers would fill with big and thick fingers. He wanted to stalk through the dark corridors in which they led the animal, find that bull and slay it that very second. " Ohhhhh, _dios mio_." Antonio sung as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, getting antsy as another one of his _peons_ dusted off his golden shoulder pads and smoothed out his flamboyant blood red and gold _traje de luces_.

But in reality Antonio didn't want the other faceless _peon_ preparing him to slay the bull.

No.

He wanted that sick little catholic, Romano, running his hands all over his frame, dusting off his shoulders and running his hands all along his strong legs, begging him to let him be his _subalterno_ and allow him to help him slay the bull alongside him. Imagining Romano, he and the bull together at once was enough to make Antonio pant and slam his free hand down on the edge of the ring, squeezing the wood tightly, as if he didn't he would find the boy and strip him naked, throw him in the silver embroidered costume, and drag him along against his will.

" _Antonio… That's right, concentrate. You know what this match means to you, to us_…" His top lancer told him, as he squeezed his shoulders, seeming to believe his excitement was only for the prospect of getting to tour and train with the leading matadors. How wrong his lancer was. "_Señor Morales is watching, along with the others in their box…. You have got this, you are a matador de toros Antonio!"_

Antonio grinned and nodded. Yes, he was the killer of bulls. And on this hot Spanish afternoon, with the sun beating down with such force that waves of heat seems to rise from the earth, and the Spanish flags hung from their countless poles in the still and dry air, Antonio knew that España was waiting. She was hot with anticipation, like a body that had touches lingering teasingly inches from skin, and held her breath, waiting for him to make his move.

For her, he would move.

The crowd erupted as he sprung over the bullring, bringing with him his sword, and his red flag. He flourished the flag a few times, snapping the long red fabric, so that it swung through the hot air, cutting through the muggy humidity, and sweeping up the dirty to make clouds of hot sand all around his shoes. Really, those were just polished.

He looked into the crowd, seeing them patterned, sitting in the patches of shade and avoiding the beating sun that Antonio had to perform in.

Sucking in a deep breath, Antonio felt his chest weld up and expand as he looked up further to the boxes where the maestros sat, their critical gazes glaring down at him. He flashed an award-winning smile to them, telling them silently that he, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, had this. He had the bull's moves mastered before it even thought them, and with another flourish of his cape, which elicited the cheering of the crowd, he told them that he had mastered the crowd as well.

He approached the dead center of the ring and with one more sideways glance he noticed a figure lumbering through the hot sweaty bodies in the crowd to push to the ring's edge right by the other team members. The sweaty, olive-skinned boy hung himself over the ledge, seeming to have arrived late.

Antonio smirked as he watched the olive-skinned boy looked up at him and notice he was looking. Their gazes connected for a second, and green held gold, and slowly the gold melted, burning into what he could imagine to be the black grime off the back of a pan, the most burnt of the burnt ashes…. That same black that was in the bulls eyes seemed to be found in the gold of the boy's eyes as he stared at Antonio.

Antonio's smirk grew long and intrigued as he noticed the top button of Romano's shirt closed tightly, probably making him sweaty like mad under his collar. It was practically _infierno_ outside, and he could only imagine Romano suffering through the heat just to hide the shame and sin Antonio had sucked right onto his skin that night before.

Ahhhh how delicious. Antonio smiled with a new sense of purpose and turned back to the gate, waiting for the bull to emerge.

They were only beginning the first of three stages, and the bull emerged, a fully black beast with incredibly large, dusty coloured horns. Antonio prepared for the _tercio de varas_, whose purpose was to judge the beast and begin to understand the mental workings of the bull.

The crowd cheered as the bull circled around Antonio and Antonio kept his gaze fixed on the movements of this new, foreign animal. The moves of his hooves, the movement in his shoulders, everything was tale tell for when the beast would strike him.

Ahhhh yes, one… two…. Yes, there it was. The bull lunged forward, going for the red cape, charging forward without the kill or be killed instinct it would later have that Antonio thirsted for.

Yes, at this point Antonio wasn't overly concerned with the animal as he tested it out, watching it lunge for the cape that he easy flourished away. He considered the two first stages the foreplay to the main event. This was like those moments where lovers began exploring, understanding how each other worked. Antonio judged that the bull favoured its right side through this… Just as he found that Romano liked it when he sucked right under his ear.

He quickly caught on to the signs this bull made before he charged, the way he bobbed his head and his hoof stamped down on the ground as if giving Antonio a warning that he was coming.

And before long his lancers were behind him on top of their horses, whom were covered in the protective _peto_ padding and snorted at the presence of the bull. The brown horses circled the bull without the fear that their earlier ancestors had without the padding, which ended up gored all over the bullring in the bloody Spanish sport.

Not that Antonio could have cared either way. In fact Antonio wondered what it would be like if it was back to it's roots. The raw form of bullfighting with less padding, less protection and less precaution. Antonio wanted to just see the fight play out as it would have in nature. Intelligent and god-powered man against the mindless creatures.

Antonio watched his lancers as they enclosed around the bull and avoided a few close charges, only to raise their hand. And this was where the fun started.

The lancer rammed his spear right into the _morrillo_ of the bull, the thick mound of muscle behind the creature's head and there… There it was!

Antonio licked his lips in anticipation as he heard the beast's cry as its head drooped down from the damaged muscles and the hair began to matte around its neck. Blood was being drawn, like precious pre-cum being coaxed out from a boy, this was just the beginning.

_ Foreplay._

He had to hold back from getting too excited as he felt this fight's weight make the situation more exciting than it should be. If he got too excited from the idea of killing the bull, he'd loose focus.

And at this point the bull was **gaining** focus. No longer was he charging at random things, now the feeling was beginning to settle in its stomach that his life was in danger. It certainly was, whether it knew it or not.

Antonio had backed off now as the second round began and his three _banderillas_ tried to encroach upon the frightened beast and try to stick the Spanish flag barbed sticks into him and bleed him out.

Normally Antonio liked to do this part and make it into a show for the audience, and on all accounts considering who was watching he SHOULD have done it…. But he didn't want the job of tiring the animal out. It would take away from the excitement of killing it if you were the one to make it easy to kill.

Instead he favoured staring at an olive skinned man who watched on, trying to avoid his own gaze and just glare with that damned angry expression of his at the bull.

Ohhhh, ahahaha… One of the suckled marks seemed to escape from his collar, making it known to Antonio from the side. And it just looked at Antonio and made him remember that night all over again, and tempted him to come over and resume where his alcohol-doused mind told him to stop.

They begged for him to come and make them friends, until Romano's skin was just one giant blotch of purple and black, so that if he ever touched his skin, everywhere on his body there was pain that made him think of Antonio.

Romano seemed to finally turn and see the Spaniard lounging right outside of the ring, leaning on the wood and giving him a hazy and lusty stare.

* * *

Romano bristled up, the hairs on the back of his splotched neck, tucked right under his collar stood on end as he took in the sight on the Spaniard giving him that knowing gaze. Romano wanted to go up to the man and head butt him until he saw red. He wanted to grab onto his flamboyant suit, fist the fancy material and yank him up, and fucking give him a piece of his mind.

Romano wanted to snarl, bark and growl threats on his and his mother's life, he wanted to damn him to the ninth circle of hell where he would freeze in the frozen lake of blood and guilt, but he knew the wicked man couldn't possibly possess a soul to damn. Ugghh, Romano wanted to shake him, shove him back and raise a fist, pound his face in until it bruised like his neck.

He wanted his manhood back, his dignity, and his spot by God's side.

Romano grumbled as he snarled at Antonio, who merely smiled back and lazily ran his fingers along the chipping wood of the bullring as the bull snorted and stomped with each _banderilla _that was dug into it's flesh in the background. The caramel skinned man cocked a brown brow as he gazed at Romano; it seemed almost questioning but also casually suggestive at the same time. It got under Romano's skin.

Antonio cocked his head a little, his matted brown hair sticking to his high, golden cheek bones and his green eyes practically glowing as his three _banderilleros _jumped over the bullring's ledge right around Antonio, patting him on the back and telling him the bull was all his. He was a dangerous one they warned him, saying he didn't tire out like they had wanted.

Romano watched as Antonio's grin grew at the word dangerous.

" _Wish me luck querido." _He mouthed across to him as he smiled that fucking shit-eating grin before making a quick cross over his chest, from shoulder to shoulder, head to chest. His lips moved silently as a little Spanish prayer whispered from his lips before he braced the edge of the bullring. The crowd began to jeer and scream his name, like a mantra, calling him to come slay the beast.

Romano turned his head, huffing and grumbling about how he wanted the bull to gore the bastard. Rip out the idiot's insides; make him bleed out in the ring.

…. Now that wasn't very Catholic of him.

But as he sweated under his done up collar, he thought neither was that.

* * *

Antonio grinned as he entered the bullring and looked up to the intrigued maestros, who all were settled in for the final t_erico de muerte_ to begin. The crowd of dark-skinned Spaniards were all cheering for him to slay the bull and Antonio wouldn't disappoint them, nor the masters as he stared down at the lumbering animal that seemed to be true to the _banderilleros' _words.

It was clear from its sharp movements and alert eyes that it wasn't yet tired out as it should be. Not to say that it wasn't bleeding, because the dirt and sand was beginning to turn a lightly pink from the blood that dripped down its shoulders from the barbed sticks.

" _We meet for the last time beast."_ Antonio slurred in heavy Spanish as he held onto the dowel of his cape tightly and braced himself as the animal gave him those tell tale signs he had learnt from the first stage. A head bob, a stamp of the hooves and the bull was charging forward towards Antonio, those blackest black eyes whirling.

"¡_OLE_!" Antonio shouted as he craned his body, his red and gold suit twisted with his body, showing off the tight calve muscles under his golden leggings. He watched as the beast flung past him, snorting out in rage as Antonio easily evaded it. Stupid animal, tired or not… There was no chance in hell for it.

Antonio smiled as the bull charged again, ready for more, moving with more speed than Antonio had wanted, and although he very easily did a fancy crowd-pleasing flourish, he noticed something unsettling that churned his strong stomach a little beneath the fancy show clothes. The bull's eyes and movements seemed to be different than most.

Instead of that struggle for life or death, the frustration and desperation that usually flooded the beast's eyes was a look of determination and anger. It reminded Antonio of the eyes of the demons in tapestries in the big city churches, the ones that hovered over him as he prayed to the Mother Mary and the Saints. The small winged children with scary adult gazes on their chubby faces, and peeling skinned adults with accusing and deadly glances downwards. They dared Antonio to sin so that they could drag him down with them in their misery. The bull seemed to be weaned off of the same teat, it challenged Antonio to strike him down, as if it had plans to drag Antonio with him if he dared to try.

Antonio gulped down the dry and hot Spanish air as he flourish again, feeling the wind of the beast's movements sway his ornate jacket. The foreplay was officially over it seemed… And an excited smile spread across Antonio's face. He could feel it in his bones that this fight would be good, a perfect show for the maestros, although Antonio wasn't overly concerned with that.

Again with another flourish, another cry of 'ole', and Antonio could practically smell the animal's stench right up in his nose, burying its self into his brain. His swirling green eyes could see the glisten of blood matting up its fur, and his tongue fell out of his mouth in concentration and he did another flourish quickly, less for show as the animal actually rounded on him right after the last flourish, un-expectantly. His tongue swept across his tanned and freckled lips like he was tasting the air for the animal's pants.

He was hungry, and Antonio could feel it welling up in his stomach as the bull nearly missed his side again with its horns after an unexpected charge. Ohhh, it was practically mouth-watering watching the bull struggle like an animal in a trap, thrashing about and bleeding with the will to live. It had not yet succumbed to its fate.

Antonio found himself mesmerized with the way the bull moved, as it charged right through the red cape. The beast reminded him of Romano… Dancing around his body, coming so close that Antonio could smell the alcohol all over his breath. He had been hungry then and devoured Romano up in kisses, and he wondered when he'd get to devour the bull, or at least in the sense of dominating it as he had the olive skinned boy's body.

Antonio was dying to look over at Romano as the crowd gasped and cheered with every wave of red. But the bull kept his attention; throwing so many unexpected charges that Antonio was beginning to wonder if it would ever tire out.

" O-Ole!" Antonio cried, his voice wavered a little as the black bull moved with Antonio. Both of them turned, Antonio twisting to avoid the bull, and the bull seeming to anticipate that move and turning with Antonio… The stupid animal, the devil was beginning to think on the same level as himself.

Antonio was panting now as his green eyes grew dark and swam with the need to destroy the beast once and for all. It was becoming too smart for his liking. It was beginning to match him. And a beast should NEVER, EVER match the image of God.

Things suddenly became a rush, a giant blur or red and black as the crowd shouted and some gasped as Antonio and the bull swirled around and round, the bull diving his head at Antonio's side and legs. The beast looked intent on flipping Antonio over him and impaling him. Antonio would be the only one to impale, thrusting his sword into the bull at the climax of the battle, not the other way around.

His hand tightened on his sword, and even Antonio let out a little hiss of surprise as he side stepped the bull just barely as it spun and attacked him with such speed that the crowd seemed to be getting riled up, but for the wrong reasons. Antonio could tell by the shouts to kill the bull that the crowd was waiting for bloodshed and this time they seemed to believe it wasn't going to be the bull spilling itself on the dusty ring floor.

Antonio could hear the screams from his team, all voices telling him to hurry up and slay the beast. All except one voice.

The young matador felt like he was drunk and experiencing vertigo as the dust spun around his and the bull's dancing feet, and the swirls of red and black from the cape and the bull were making him dizzy. It was all so fast, and urgent that Antonio shivered. Yes, that's right… More… Faster…

Antonio licked his cracking lips in excitement, repeating those words like a bed partner, who chanted them, as they were thrusted into over and over again. The bull readied itself and then charged again, stomping its hooves and bobbing its head.

"OLE!"

The crowd gasped, leaning forward in their seats, gripping the edge of their seats with sweaty and dirty laborer hands. It was so close now that Antonio felt himself and the bull moving as one, his hand on his sword tightening as he sweated and sweated. God, he was dizzy, hot and excited all at once.

He did a big flourish, pretending to stab the bull, but pulling away to make the crowd get riled up. He wanted to hear Romano shout at him from over the ring, his golden eyes screaming at him to kill it already and not waste their time…. But he couldn't hear him…. It was as if he had left.

Antonio's chocolate head turned, his green eyes swimming with the darkness of the beast that had begun to consume him. His cracking, tanned lips pulled up into a smile as he turned his body, contorting in his fancy matador suit to view behind him. His eyes were searching in the crowd of his men, looking for the one boy whom he wanted more than any animal, but for the same purpose. The crowd shouted at him as his red cape when a little slack as he lowered the dowel, and his sword threatened to fall from his loose grasp and bounce along the sandy floor. There he was…. The olive skinned boy. He was lounging against the ring, his golden eyes glaring mercilessly into Antonio's, and his nimble fingers stroked along the bullring, his nails grazing the chipping brown paint as he kept glaring, His bangs were sticking to his forehead, and he looked to be ready to combust into flames with his buttons all done up. Antonio couldn't stop a smile as Romano looked cranky, like a small child who had had enough of the day and wanted out of the sun.

Antonio though grew confused as Romano's golden eyes widened, his hands on the bullring turning to grab onto it and lean forward. Oh god….. Did Antonio ever feel dizzy…. Everything seemed to moving a million speeds slower. He could see Romano's neck crane as he leaned over the bullring, stretching until a bruise or two were exposed, his hands tightening until they were white. Others did the same, his men practically falling over the rail, all looking at him and screaming stuff that was blurred out to his ears into a low mumble of background noise. Romano looked frightened all of a sudden, and Antonio in confusion craned his head, wondering why he looked so, feeling his world go so slow that he thought he could see the dust whizz right by his face. There was black everywhere.

His green eyes flew open, his eyelids opening until there was white all around as he felt himself be pushed right in the middle of his body. His mouth opened, falling slack as he saw red everywhere, all over the stands, the people's faces and the bullring itself. Searing hot pain filled his body, running through his veins with every accelerated beat of his heart.

Antonio craned his head, everything still going too slow, and saw that it was the bull, so close to his body that he felt it's disgusting warmth all over his back. Its slimy nose touched Antonio's side and its beady black hellish eyes stared up at him, triumphantly, as if it had dominated Antonio in return. Snarls of hot breath ghosted all along Antonio's body, and it made him wonder just how cold his body was when the animal's breath felt so arm through his material.

The eyes reminded him of the lustful glow that his held when he slaughtered one of the bulls, like he was finishing off his prey in a battle to the death. How Antonio imagined one would look on the battlefield, standing over the bloody corpse of your enemy, their blood coating your hands to the point that it dripped down between opened fingers onto the ground and your shoes. It was how Antonio imagined he would feel with Romano's seed sticking to all his fingers, as he leaned over his bruised and pleasured body, watching his chest heave up and down, stretching olive skin against ribs, with a slick stick of sweat all over him.

Antonio realized in something akin to horror that the tables had turned. And with a twitching face he craned his sight down, drifting lower and lower as he heard the gasps off the audience, some of them screaming in blurred noises that he had been hit. He hadn't… Oh god he couldn't have let that animal-

Green eyes widened, his hands convulsing as he started down at the gold of his suit and saw a peek of white on his right side. A peek of white that stuck out through him, as if emerging from him. T-That….. Wasn't….. He hadn't been…..

Then a slicing hot, searing and unimaginable pain filled him, a pain that blurred his senses, making him see splotches of black as it ran through his body like his veins were filled with acid. It felt like the fires of hell burning his body alive, turning his sculpted body to ashes, especially in his midsection. Antonio's throat tightened as he let out a shuddering breath that reminded him too much of the beasts as he impaled them and keeled over, dry heaving nothing but strangled noises. Were his insides leaving him? Being dragged out by those cursed and beautiful horns of the bull?

Because something was leaving his body.

It was kill or be killed. It was a climax unlike Antonio had ever experienced, a rush of pure adrenaline unlike any drug this godly planet could ever fathom. His body thudded with a thousand heartbeats, thudding in his ears, in his stomach, and his chest all beating with the same speeding rhythm like drums. He gripped his sword in that moment as he turned, his insides screaming for him not to.

He growled out in hunger as Antonio's sword lifted high up into the air, glistening in the Spanish sun as one final testimonial to his name, and one last attempt at control. Antonio thrust down, propelling his body down to strike the animal right at the neck.

The crowd fell silent and all Antonio could hear was his panting, the thudding in his chest… And the bull with it's satanic grunts and groans as Antonio sliced down further, feeling it give way to his sword, severing the muscle.

Antonio drew the sword away smiling, watching it reemerge like a man's cock covered in himself, with blood staining the blade. He heaved heavy breaths as the animal's head hung low and he wobbled away from Antonio.

Green eyes watched, stared at the bull as it and it's bloody horn walked around a little, the hooves moving unevenly. Antonio savored his moment, the defeat of the animal that had almost taken him down with it to hell. Antonio couldn't fathom another animal that he rather see die than this one who almost tried to make a man fall to his knees before it.

The bull crooned, it's black head lurching forward as blood was snorted and heaved out, hanging in bloody pink tendrils from its mouth and plastering its snout. The footing became uneven as it kept crying out, sputtering blood, flinging it across the dusty bullring as it poured out almost black from its mouth. It looked like ink as it flew in the air.

Antonio thought he would like to write love notes in it.

It cried as the movements became slow, the blood of the _banderillas_, the blood from the wound and the blood pouring from its mouth and nostrils making it looked wet and pathetic. The crowd watched on, some cheering as the animal took it's last staggering step and then collapsed, in a cloud of dust.

The cheers that followed were unlike any Antonio had ever heard in his life. Even some of the maestros were standing and applauding him, gazing at him with interest. But Antonio didn't care about them… He didn't care about the men who carted the bull around the ring to show off Antonio's killing. He turned to look for Romano, his body tingling with excitement and adrenaline and watched as Romano turned to leave the bullring as if he had seen enough.

_" Antonio, Antonio please…. I think the bull may have broken through skin…_" One of his men that rushed up seconds later cried as they grabbed onto his shoulders.

" _Antonio! You are bleeding in the back… The wound may be bad, please let us escort you to the physician_!" Another insisted.

But Antonio wasn't listening; their words were as good as the buzzing of flies to Antonio's ears. No…. As he watched the flash of auburn hair disappear from the crowd of his remaining men, he had no eyes and no ears and no time for anyone but Romano.

He had to see him; there was no question about it.

He turned with his charming smiled and patting his lancer on the shoulder, thanking him. " _Thank you Andres… Your concern is both touching and unnecessary_." Antonio twisted around a little to prove his point, keeping up his smile. " _See? I am fine…. I feel like the bull had merely nicked my side. Trust me on this." _

" _B-But Antonio really I insist that you_-."

Antonio shook his head, formulating a better excuse before Romano disappeared completely from his sight. " _This has been a very dangerous match, and I would like to go to the ring's chapel… I need to be alone to pray to Mary and God that I am still alive. I must give thanks for my life and that is more importantly than a much un-needed (I assure you) assessment._"

He smiled through out and finally the team reluctantly let him go with a warning that he better get it looked at right after, to which Antonio of course smiled and agreed on their terms. Whether or not he'd carry through with his promise was another story.

Pushing people was not what Antonio normally did, but he was a man on a mission, and his excitement and adrenaline caused him to shove aside spectators who filed out of the stands out of the way, ignoring their congratulations.

It was only when he caught sight of Romano that he slowed down, approaching him with heavy feet and hooded eyes. He grabbed onto Romano's arm tightly, ignoring his cat-like hisses and scratches of resistance.

His voice was deep, and husky like back at the bar as he leaned down to Romano's ear and whispered to him.

" Come with me…."

* * *

**OH MY GOD CHILDREN. SEX IS COMING UP RIGHT AROUND THE FUCKING BEND.** ( Though be warned.. if you are looking for a mushy sex scene... DONT READ IT oh dear god D: ) I warn you though, as you have noticed Antonio is getting creepier and creepier... In my head!canon during his conquistador days he was two-faced... One caring and friendly side, and a murderous and crazy. So this is my interpretation of that time period in Spain's life translated into another setting and time period, with a slow decent in the crazy side.

The next and last chapter will also be rather slow (THOUGH HOPEFULLY NO WHERE NEAR THIS BAD) because I'm still not in much of a writing mood... And I'm very busy this summer :0

**(as always... correct my googletranslation!spanish please!)**

_Tu eres tan hermoso - _You are so beautiful.

___Quiero comerte todo depende_ - I want to eat you all up

_Gimotear, mendigar como un animal - _Whine, beg like an animal.

_mozo de espada_ - sword page

_ayuda - help_

_dios mio - _my god

_traje de luces - "suit of lights" Matador costume_

_matador de toros - _killer of the bulls, the name for the main matador

_infierno - _hell

_tercio de varas - _"the lancing third" the first stage of bullfighting

_morrillo - _upper neck of cattle/bulls

_querido - darling_


	4. Amen

There is no beta, and I haven't even given this a once over so it is probably riddled with spelling errors. I just wanted to post it so there would be a conclusion for those who still wanted an ending. Thank you to all of you who gave me so many reviews and urged me to finish. Hope you are happy, but be warned from the get go there is **HEAVY NON-CON GOING ON HERE, AND LOTS OF OTHER BAD STUFF. So beware. **As well, it is a little rushed near the end since I wanted to just have it done so I hope you don't mind and forgive me. Otherwise,

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"W-Where are you taking me Antonio! I demand to know this instance!" Romano squirmed, his body contorting and twisting as his fingers flexed unnaturally, trying to twist out of Antonio's vice grip around his arm. What the fuck was happening!? He had been trying to figure out for the past five minutes as Antonio had dragged him without another word past the bullring, chapel and down past the shanties and then through the field that Romano was realizing would eventually lead to the barn.

What the hell was going through that head of his? First what he had done to Romano after the bar… When he had forced himself on him, done those terrible things that Romano certainly had no choice in and didn't want, even being so bold as to leave evidence on his crimes all over Romano's body. He marked Romano like property, like a possession that had no free will and took advantage of him. And now as he struggled, scratched and kicked at his firm legs he found the same scene repeating as he was dragged, red marks matching fingers all over his arms.

" Antonio! This is not funny! Un-hand me!" He barked as his feet dug into the dirty path, watching as his beat up shoes covered in dust as Antonio seemed to just yank him right through his resistance, like he was nothing but a rag doll. Where had this strength come from!? " You bastard! You idiot! You are probably hurt anyways, so get yourself fucking checked out!" He growled as he almost tripped on himself as Antonio tugged him forward towards the bull barn that now looked almost intimidating, standing there alone… In an overgrown field that stood still in the breeze-less day, far away from the main camp… Away from others… Isolated.

He watched Antonio turned back to look up at him, his golden skin that was so sun-damaged from years out in the sun, shirtless with that red sash around his hips and his brown breeches, wrinkling a little as he smiled widely, looking so inviting and gentle… If anyone else saw that smile they could probably melt into a sense of security, and find him incredibly handsome… And maybe he was the latter, if Romano didn't seem the darkness swimming deep within those green eyes. They were like green oceans that were clouded over, turning a dark murky colour far back. If his eyes were considered to be a portal to his soul, then his soul must be something to fear.

" Ahhh _si, si_ but Romano… But you passed out last night _quierdo_, and that wasn't very fair was it?" He smiled like a child, but Romano thought he looked like a child that was pulling the wings off of a butterfly. " Not when we were in the middle of _love-making_."

The word rolled off his tongue and his smile grew, his eyes trying to ensnare Romano and drown him in that murky and dark ocean.

Romano bristled up like a street cat in a turf war, his shoulders hunching up near his shoulders. He hissed out as he tried to pull his wrist out of Antonio's grasp. " How _dare _you call what you did to me _love-making._" He seethed. That was a big acquisition to make, one that Romano despised and shot down immediately. He would NEVER make love with another man, he would NEVER give himself up before God to anyone before marriage, let alone to a man…. Especially not Antonio, who defiled and disgraced his supposed God in so many ways that Romano imagined that confessions with him would be hours long.

Antonio smirked and glanced back at the olive-skinned man as they approached the big wooden doors of the barn that smelt of rot and bulls. The Spanish sun beat down on them. " My apologies Roma..." The corner of his lip twitched up into more of a smile as he seemed to be lost in thought of the night before. " But as I recall, you seemed to be more than enjoying yourself."

Romano immediately stammered, his face going red, though it was hard to tell if it was from embarrassment or anger and he shrieked. " A-And what gave you that damn impression, huh? My puking? My distinct lack of the ability to reason, or how about that I was so drunk that I couldn't even fucking remember my name, let alone stop your dirty sins!" Romano fumed.

Antonio cocked a brow as he leaned forward, pushing his scarily happy face towards Romano, craning it as his free hand lifted up and gingerly start un-plucking at his done up buttons, slowly popping them out from their holes so that the fabric fell back to expose Romano's neck that was littered in bruises. "W-What are you- Ouch!" Romano hissed as Antonio finger pushed into one of the sensitive marks, dipping into the purple skin.

" When I made this mark….. You told me you've touched yourself because of me." Antonio's smile curled up into a impish grin. " I believe your exact words my Romano were ' Bastard, you've made me go to confessions…. I hope your fucking happy…. I'm going to hell because of you….' Then you slurred on about how good it felt to touch yourself…."

" Y-You're lying!" Romano shrieked, a blush consuming his face. He had preferred to die with that between God and him…. Well and Father Tomas.

Antonio shrugged, licking his lips and he pressed into another bruise. " This mark you were practically stroking me through my pants…"

The blush only grew stronger, and Romano's stance grew more and more defensive as Antonio fabricated lies. Lies that would tempt him into a false sense of security and make him believe that it had been two-sided and as if he hadn't forced himself on his drunken self.

Antonio leaned in so Romano could smell spice and sweat everywhere and then pressed into one more bruise, this one right under his ear. He pressed his finger nice and hard so that Romano winced. Antonio loved that look on him. " And this one…. Well this one you were begging me to touch you…."

Romano flustered, because if Antonio was possibly, maybe telling the truth that implied that Romano had wanted it… That he had WANTED the bruises, the searing kisses, and the dirty, immoral words that had penetrated his senses and better judgment last night. " You fucking liar."

" You terrible Catholic." Antonio retorted, smiling that curly little smile that made Romano want to punch his face in as he opened the barn door, seeing all the lancer's horses all walking around, chewing on the hay quietly. Their beady eyes all staring at Romano as he was dragged by Antonio through the stuffy barn, as if they were expecting him to feed like them he sometimes did. The light filtered down, lighting the dust up that swirled around Antonio as he cut through the stagnant air, dragging the bright red and kicking Romano who still screamed to be let loose, this time with even more venomous words and rage as he realized just what Antonio was planning on continuing. Romano's golden eyes followed Antonio's taught legs in the tights as they strutted across the barn floor, practically dragging Romano across the floor.

Romano tripped over himself, swearing lightly as he thudded to the ground, hoping Antonio would give him a second to right himself, or give him a moment to kick him in the shins while on the floor and crawl away because he didn't WANT this, regardless of what he had been drunken enough to say the night before. But no, Antonio kept dragging, kept pulling him by the arm across the barn floor. " LET GO OF ME! For fucks sake this HURTS!" Romano cried out as his hand twisted awkwardly as his body was dragged across the barn, dust and dirt whirling around his body, and his clothes getting dirty with the earth. The dirt of the barn floor caked under his chewed nails as he scraped to try and keep himself with the horses that he liked as Antonio opened the big metal latch to the bull's section. N-Not the bulls…. He hated being surrounded by those animals that stamped and tried to kick the metal cages apart to escape what was a certain death in the bullring. Their eyes still filled with the will to live, only to watch it drain out in the bullring. Romano had dreamt of slaughtering them, but there was something about seeing the animal full of life before. It was like still loving eating beef, but not wanting to be there to witness it grazing in the grass before you shot it down.

But he knew while he didn't like being around them, Antonio thrived off of it. And he could see a flicker of something un-namable in his murky green eyes as Romano was yanked to his feet and he and Antonio surveyed the barn. The bulls with their sharp, yellowed horns stood in their metal cages, stamping their hooves so it clacked over and over again. Snorts and huff of displeasure could he heard all around as some charged a little at the bars as they neared the cages. Romano couldn't tell by all the noise, by all the black and brown beasts kicking around in their cages if they were getting riled up because their murderer was within goring distance, or if they were egging him on, encouraging him to sin and join them in hell.

Antonio kept dragging him against his dying protests, past all the bulls that all snorted and kicked at the cages, causing Romano to flinch away and closer to Antonio's warm body. That only caused him to practically fling himself towards the bulls. He'd choose the beasts over Antonio any day. The animals were in cages, but the animal beside him, the most deadly of them all, was not.

They neared the big pile of hay in the corner, the same pile that Romano had caught Antonio sinning in so casually like it was second nature. It was where all of this began. Had he not caught him, Antonio would not have been interested, Romano wouldn't have been tempted into sin and fuck, he wouldn't be in this situation. Romano felt two strong hands on his chest and he pulled his hands up to wrap around Antonio's wrists, trying to push him away. He could see nice big purple welts beginning to form around his wrists as Antonio panted, although he had no reason to. " _Mio dios_…." He whispered under his breath as he leaned in, closing the gap between them so that his face was right against Romano's. Romano squirmed, craning his head away in disgust as Antonio dipped his head down and trailed his nose from the crook his neck up to under his chin, smelling his skin that smelt a little like lavender.

Antonio seemed to get lost as his hands roamed over Romano, making him wince as the rough hands tightened around his ribs, right where a few perfectly placed marks were. It's like the bastard knew just where to dig his fingers in to make him sing. " Ahhhh shit!" Romano hissed out as he fumed a little, squirming away. " Seriously… Fucking STOP Antonio I don't fucking WANT this!" He shouted as Antonio's tongue left goose bumps all over his body as it trailed a hot path down his neck. Romano felt fear coil in his stomach as Antonio didn't let up…. Last night was a mistake… He could maybe even take the Catholic way out and know that God forgave all no matter how hard he sinned because he had confessed… And he could even try and embrace the virtue of forgiveness and blame the previous night on all the alcohol. But this was _un-forgivable_ there was no fucking alcohol, and no fucking excuse.

" Ahhhh gosh Roma, you are so beautiful…." Antonio sighed out into his neck, sounding pleased and happy like he was fucking floating. He sounded in love, and in bliss and it made Romano feel sick. But he just couldn't tell if it was a good or bad sick… But he put his bets on bad.

" F-Fuck off… Stop it Antonio." Romano despised how his voice wavered as his hands on Antonio's chest tightened into fists, and he shuddered as he felt the lips suck onto his neck, threatening to leave big marks.

" Oh Roma, Roma, Roma…. You get me as excited as the _toros… _You are so delicious…." He peppered kisses all over his neck, going dizzy in excitement. He smiled against his neck and Romano could feel it. It was like he was back at the bar and Antonio was marking him and claiming him, making Romano's knees feel weak and his senses fill with nothing but Antonio. He reared his head up, smiling happily and blissfully, but at the same time Romano saw the darkness swimming deep in his eyes itching to come out. " _Quierdo I-_"

Romano didn't even let him finish that sentence as his hand reared back and slapped him with a loud crack, snapping Antonio's face to the side. He heaved a few big breaths, his hand trembling by his face as he stared in shock from his hand to Antonio's face before collapsing into a deep frown. " Don't you _dare _call me _quierdo_…"

Antonio let out a low chuckle, a deep, dark chuckle as he stroked his cheek. Romano flinched, stepping back so his heels hit the stray pile. He was cornered and felt like a rabbit surrounded by foxes. Antonio finally glanced at him and Romano's manliness stopped him from yelping out in what he could only describe as fear. Antonio's face resembled the same face when stabbing the bull that crazed almost orgasmic face that was swimming with excitement and cruelty. " Naughty, naughty Romano…" He said slowly as he moved closer and closer to Romano, loving how he stepped back as far as he could like a surrounded prey, but like the bulls, even in the face of danger kept that smoldering fire in his golden eyes. " I thought you said last night you wanted this?"

Before Romano could retort he was suddenly surrounded by hay, dust flying everywhere and there was a heavy weight around him and heat everywhere…. So much heat that he could have sworn he was burning up. What the fuck was happening to him? Romano cracked his golden eyes open just to have them fly open as something hot and wet was in his mouth. The un-godly, sinful bastard's tongue was down his throat, moving too skillfully and without the same allure and loving passion as the night before from what Romano despised to remember. No, this time the skilled mouth was rough, nipping and biting at his lips, forcing the tongue deep as if he wanted to stroke the walls of his throat.

Romano's golden eyes were tight now as he writhed around under him, groaning into his mouth in what Antonio took as pleasure but he took as panic and resistance. T-This wasn't right! Not a man, not him, not like this! He growled as his hands beat against Antonio's chest, hiccupping his breath that poured across Romano's face.

"S-Stop it… bastard!" Romano groaned out as Antonio's lips pried off of his, and he felt rough chapped lips leaving scorching open mouth kisses and bites down the hollow of his throat. It was sloppy, but not un-skilled (and god how Romano hated that, he had wanted him to be terrible), and he could feel the pressing of his lips and the heat of his open mouth, and could almost sense the wetness of his tongue before it teased his olive skin.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Antonio's nostrils flared as he breathed in deeply, his jaw going slack and his mouth fumbling before latching onto Romano, wanting to leave big sister marks to the ones that were begging to be left alone to heal. Romano blushed heavily as he squirmed around. The bastard wasn't even fucking listening to him was he?! He was airheaded sure, but not DEAF.

" … Romano…. You smell wonderful…." He said in childish wonder as his mouth left Romano with a pop, his saliva going cold even though Romano's skin was on fire. He ran his tongue along Romano's neck on new undiscovered patches behind his ear and when he pushed his head in the hay enough, getting bits of straw caught in his mess of sweaty brown curls, he could taste the back of his shoulders. It was as if he was trying to see if he tasted as good as he smelt, like fresh baked churros or a spit-roasted pig.

Romano went to protest, to shout and tell him to fuck off when his mouth was violated again with his searching tongue. Romano shook his head, his fingers curling around Antonio's strong arms as his back arched, the considerable muscles straining under the stress of Antonio pushing back against him. Fucker was too strong from all the training.

Romano knew this from day after day when he'd sit on the crates full of supplies, lounging and neglecting his tasks as a _peon_ to watch. O-Only to see how a matador would train, and how he one day would have to condition his own body. Antonio would be in his brown beat up breeches, barefoot with the real cape spinning around his body as he practiced his complex flourishes. Romano would stare at how his body contorted and twisted and how the usually to himself man came alive. Later at night when all the teams were asleep (or passed out) Romano would come out to the same place, dressed in his maroon open-necked shirt and black breeches, so late that no one else could see him and use the training cape they used for the aspiring matadors training in their camp. He would try and do the same twirls and spins as the man with the livid green eyes. (Usually he ended up draped over the bullring sweating everything out, or frustrated and throwing it into the dirt, swearing off bull-fighting… until he was back the next night). But like his flourishes… he was no match for Antonio.

He was too fast, his hands already prying to yank out his shirt that was tucked in his pants, slipping under the fabric and the rough dirtied and shaking hands caressing his sore skin. He was too skilled, his tongue stroking Romano's in a perfect rhythm, alternating between tongue and hot open-mouthed kisses, making Romano get dizzy and his arms thrash around to stop. And he was too damn determined, un-phased by Romano pleas between kisses, his head craning away, saliva connecting their lips as he panted and growled more un-god-like words. Antonio wouldn't have that and grinned devilishly before his hands under his skin slipped up to his chest and the rough pad of his fingers swept in, ensnaring Romano's nipple between them. Romano's golden eyes grew wide, his breath catching in his throat as a little yelp of pleasure and surprise left his lips that he just couldn't bite back.

This was fucking enough. Romano was a grown fucking man… This was ridiculous, and so very, very wrong and he was just letting it happen. He wasn't struggling enough against the sin, he should be screaming, thrashing like a trapped animal and biting tooth and nail to be free and yet his resistance was minimal and weak. He was a shame before his God, because all Romano could think of when Antonio fingers started tweaking his nipples roughly, refusing to treat him like a doll, was his own ring finger slipping around his own chest.

Romano's finger swirling around his engorged bud, the self-disgust only making it feel more wrong, and more exciting. His other hand under his sleep tunic, exploring the organ that he had never felt when it was so thick and hot. He could remember the heat pooling his body, his toes curling and his legs twitching as he smothered his face tried to stop the noises that kept trying to leave him. His mouth going slack and losing control as he moaned into his hand slapped over his mouth. The fingers going moist as he sucked and chewed on them so his neighbours couldn't hear him as he rutted up into his tight fist, right into the sheets, thinking of nothing but Antonio's big hand around his cock. The night was cool but his body was so hot and he twisted himself into the sheets as he almost sobbed a little moan that couldn't be contained as something was building up inside him, something so hot, so consuming that Romano thought he would pass out. The whole ordeal didn't take long, but soon he found his hips moving uncontrollably, his hard member throbbing as he rolled his hips as a stick wetness left him and covered his sheets, the image of Antonio pleasuring himself never leaving him once.

Romano couldn't make a real resistance because past the hate, past his God and his church, and past the humiliation…. Maybe some small, Satan-esque part of him buried deep down in his subconscious… wanted him.

But like hell he wanted it like this.

" Get…. Off… Me!" Romano huffed as he slammed his hands up before Antonio tongue was down his throat one more time and .it. No fucking more. Romano growled deeply before he allowed Antonio's tongue entrance like he was baiting it into the trap. He waited, gave him a moment to explore until SNAP. He snapped the cage close, his teeth clamping down on his tongue, instantly eliciting howls of pain from him.

"Ahhhh… R-Romano! W-Why?" He cupped his mouth, tasting blood as Romano scampered around in the hay, the bulls snorting and kicking either alerting Antonio his prey was getting away, or praising Romano for making him bleed.

Romano flipped over onto his stomach and tried to crawl past the distracted Spaniard who was nursing his mouth in the cradle of his hand, like a lowly bug through the dirt. His hands yanked him forward, the straw stabbing him all over his stomach as his shirt rode up as he shimmied and twisted around desperately. His golden eyes were wide because he knew, with his heart thumping in his throat that if he didn't scamper away…. Antonio would have him, and he wouldn't be happy.

Romano panted, getting up onto the worn knees of his pants and going to stand when he felt to big warm hands around his waist. To any other person it would be lovely to have a man's hand around their waist, guiding them back to them… But to Romano it was his turn to be caught in a trap, his gold eyes never loosing the will to live as Antonio dragged him back.

" Tsk, tsk… Where are you going _quiredo?_ We've only just completed the _tercio de varas…" _Romano could _hear_ his grin as he yanked his hips back.

"Nononononono…." Romano squealed as his nails dug into the floorboards of the barn, scraping dirt, splinters and old bull dung under his nails as Antonio dragged him from his freedom, so he couldn't see the barn door anymore, only Antonio and the barn tools that hung in the small space opposite to them. Sharp tools that if Romano could get to… He could knock the bastard out with.

" There are two more stages Romano… You mustn't be so hasty…" He grinned a warm and loving grin that spoke more than words ever could about how thin his patience was becoming. " If you don't master that you will never be my _subalterno."_

"Like fuck. I'll _never_ be your _subalterno, _bastard."

It was strange though, although his green emerald eyes were still alive his face had paled considerably to the point that had Romano cared he would have asked him if he was ill. His eyes looked sunken, and new sweats were breaking out over the old ones that dirt had clung to. His hands were shaking too as they reached for his shirt.

Panic flashed in Romano eyes as Antonio gripped the insides of his shirt. " W-What are you-?" He watched as Antonio answered him by ripping the shirt like it was nothing, the buttons flying everywhere and either clattering on the floor, the sound lost by the clanging of the bull's hooves against the bars, or they were lost in the hay that Romano was surrounded by.

" Hush Romano... You're rousing the bulls, and you what that does to me." He whispered huskily, no longer in front of Romano. With panic Romano's golden eyes darted to find where the voice was coming from, and found his face going as red as a tomato when he found it coming from between his legs. " Ahhh Romano stop!" He heard the Spaniard almost growl, losing patience as Romano snapped his legs together, boxing his ears in. There you fucking go, there was his struggle making its appearance a little too late.

And like that it was gone in a puff of smoke, his head snapping up as pressure was relieved around his waist and two large, tanned hands were at his backside, groping and reaching around. Romano felt his body drag in the hay until his legs were in the air and his head was almost buried in the golden hay.

" F-Fucking… stop… let me go! You are supposed to be a Godly man! What's _wrong_ with you?" He hated that he sputter in front of the bastard but for god's sakes his legs were flailing around his head as Antonio kept pulling at his breeches, whipping them off his legs. "You are going to hell for this! Doesn't that even remotely fuck with your impenetrable head, you sick fuck!?" Romano shouted at him, aiming his legs for a double kick to the face that Antonio avoided much to Romano's disappointment.

Antonio merely chuckled as he stared down at Romano _completely_ bare lower half, not bothering to answer him because if going to hell meant having Romano to himself… He would be strangely fine with that. Plus he was sure he had long stopped being a godly man when he kept pleasuring himself, especially lately to the auburn-haired man.

Antonio glanced at Romano, unsure if the man- No, scratch that he just realized he was lacking pants.

" G-Give those back this INSTANT! D-Don't… NO….. ANTONIO STOP THIS NOW-Ahhhhh~." Romano's shouts morphing into a low and deep moan as he watched Antonio's dark curls disappear between his legs, his green eyes no doubt taking in the view that no one was supposed to see, let alone….. touch.

And touch he did. Romano's face erupting into such a fierce blush that he was sure Antonio could feel the heat all the way down to his legs. H-His tongue…. The bastard was… on his…. Oh god. He went to shout and resist but….

" Antonioooooo~ S-St… Ahh…."

Needless to say Romano clamped his mouth shut, finding every resistance rolling into a throaty moan. Antonio's mouth was doing weird things to his member… His lips sliding up and down as Romano felt it dip deeper and deeper into Antonio's throat. A tongue lapped at him, and swirled in a way that made his head dizzy.

Antonio chuckled as he pulled of Romano with a pop, making Romano flush a cute pink as a trail of saliva connected his wet lips to the engorged crown of his cock.

" Didn't quite catch that…" Antonio chuckled playfully, waiting for Romano to open his gorgeous mouth to murmur out a retort before lavishing his cock with kisses and nips and long, languid licks, trying to challenge his need to resist with groans of pleasure.

He loved Romano's feistiness; his internal struggle to hold in noises and his insistent resistance reminded him of the bull's struggle to live in the bullring. Nothing had ever got his pulse racing like that, and nothing ever got him so hard.

"B-Bastaaard…. Mmn." Romano's voice almost went weak and feminine at the end as his golden eyes fluttered closed as Antonio opened his mouth and let the hot cock slip right down so when he swallowed around his head, the man was practically dripping right down his throat. He could feel Romano throb in his mouth erratically as he heard the man's gasps above him.

Antonio almost grinned around his cock. He felt two clammy and desperate hands weave into his curls, wanting to control the way Antonio gave him pleasure. He could hear the grunts and stinted noises that he kept welled inside of him, refusing to allow Antonio the joy of hearing what he did to him.

Romano's toes curled, his legs wobbling as he watched the brown head bob between his legs, the hot wetness gaining speed. He'd pull him out, his lips so tight that he almost had Romano sobbing to keep noises in. He bring himself right up so that his lips were kissing his tip, only to force his head down, bringing him into until his nose was tickling the sparse auburn curls around himself. He couldn't hold noises in much longer…. He hated himself, and with every thrust of the Spaniard's head the guilt and the consuming pleasure doubled… He was filled with self-hatred because his body was responding so much.

Antonio's hands that were rubbing circles on his thighs, and reaching around to pinch on his behind (which he did not squeak out in pleasure from…) moved. He felt one hand disappear under himself, the other pressing into the soft, supple flesh of his thighs, shoving the leg back to get better access to his prize. " Nngh- …. Ahhhh…. T-Tonio…" He couldn't stop himself as a slurred version of his name left his lips. He was terrible, allowing himself to be control and converted by this bastard. Romano allowed himself to experience the dangerous pleasure that was occurring between his legs, knotting his stomach and bathing his groin and insides with a stroking, smooth heat. The heat mimicked the feeling of his predator's mouth, stroking the smooth and almost velvety tight, hot skin of his cock in a fluid motion. It was aided by the strange liquid he could feel beading out of him and onto Antonio's tongue with every desperate roll of his hips.

Antonio just kept it up, swallowing around the auburn haired man to elicit more of those glorious noises that he kept trying to bite back to the point of his olive lips becoming cute and puffy. His wandering hand crawled, caressing the untouched and virginal skin of the boy's charmingly round ass that was half buried by the hay. He could tell no other had been there, no other hands; man, woman or beasts. His rough and calloused fingers from years of bullfighting were prospecting the undiscovered territory that was Romano. They stroked the plains of skin, and down over the hill of his perineum, and down the valley between his cheeks, searching for the entrance to a hot and tight cavern that lay untouched for Antonio.

Romano squirmed and panted like a dog in heat as Antonio's skilled, but strangely shaking fingers groped under him, touching strange tingling places that sent little jolts of pleasure to his cock that was rammed down that smirking, sinning mouth of his. His golden, hazy eyes could see nothing… Oh gooooddddd, nothing because he was so deep within him that he shielded even the furthest part of him as his lips kissed the base.

Then he'd pull back and Romano would be granted inch by inch a view of his embarrassing excitement, dewed and slippery from Antonio's saliva, hard and aching to release. His tip was red as any matadors cape, engorged and filled to the point that Romano's body was thrusting himself up when he pulled away just trying to reach some unachievable feeling of completeness.

He wanted to keep hating Antonio. He wanted to swear on Mother Mary he didn't want this…. But he knew he would never leave the confession booth after confessing this because it just felt too good to stop. Antonio felt too good to stop.

Had he stopped before maybe he could still be saved? Judas had kissed Jesus, and had betrayed him, so a kiss or two, while the work of the devil, could be acceptable because the bastard betrayed his virtue with his lips… But THIS … While mimicking kisses, was nowhere close to them.

And with that thought Antonio pressed something into him, making him squeal and forget all about the difference between virtuous and sinful.

Antonio moaned around his cock, massaging the head with the vibrating deep in his throat as Romano clenched up around his finger that had pried him apart enough to worm its way in. _Mio dios_ he wanted in him so badly, he would trade his cross, his cape… Anything to be deep within the brunette as he cried out and his behind tried to reject his foreign finger.

He could hear the bulls stomping and snorting and he felt like he was in the bullring, plunging _banderillas _into the bull. Antonio would bleed them out, tire them out until they were perfect for the taking, This was round two, he had judged the bull's actions and now he had to drain him down into submission. His green eyes were alight with stimulation and pleasure as he coiled his tongue around Romano's throbbing cock and bobbing his head faster and faster as his finger began pushing up into him and mimicking his head. Antonio was draining Romano, just not of blood. Instead he enjoyed Romano's life-force leaking all over his tongue and throat, tasting salty and briny. He was now ripe for the taking; Antonio tried to not smile in glee.

"B-Baassttaarrrdddd….. Mn… Hah-." He hazily slurred, his eyes blinking out of sync as the cloudy consuming heat took him over, his hips starting to shake and move around on the intrusion, as Antonio just didn't let up.

Both of their movements became erratic and desperate, a chorus of moans, coos, and slurping filled the barn until suddenly there was the thud of a body being tossed over.

The bulls seemed to grow quiet as they watched on, hands and legs kicking out from the corner, followed by grunts and muffled pleas. Their black beady eyes reflecting the virtue being stripped from Romano, any sign of clothing now long gone, only a cross defiantly hanging limp around his neck.

Antonio was straddling Romano, whose face was on the ground as he un-did his belt and let his pants drop down to his knees.

Their hooves only started making more noise, their snorts and cries filling the barn again as two fingers snuck their way into Romano, making him cry out and writhe below Antonio.

Hot, heavy Spanish left Antonio's lips as the fingers stretched and probed inside of Romano. He wanted to attack that sweet spot that would send Romano's mind careening over the edge.

"_Dios._" Antonio growled as he found it and watched Romano dance. So beautiful, so… so beautiful.

* * *

Romano's forehead smacked against the floor repeatedly, digging small slivers into his skin. He was silent, the fight had drained out of his body… It was humiliating to be reduced to pained noises and hisses. Antonio was debasing him so freely and Romano's struggles were simply ignored now.

"Bast…ard…." Romano choked out as the cock slammed back into him, his words stuttered and lost. All the dust of the barn made his face dirty, but the tears that had managed to claw from his eyes were raking lines down his cheeks.

He was whispering prayers under his breath, hoping some God was listening to him. Any God at this point.

But Antonio was chanting prayers as well. Prayers used at communion. Was this the sick bastard's communion? His holy consumption of the body? It was frightening because the vile man was louder. God was going to hear his prayers before Romano's.

The sick slap of skin filled the barn and the bulls were eerily quiet so that Romano was forced to hear it. It was visceral, fucking not only his body but his mind too. Every snap of his desperate, almost animalistic hips that were so focused on finishing made bile rise in Romano's throat.

"Son.. of a bitch…" He choked out, his fingers digging further into the wood and his own cock scraping the floor as Antonio thrust in even harder.

He didn't know how much more he could take of being ripped open and assaulted. He was being penetrated and slaughtered like one of his bulls. Though suddenly the thrusts became weaker, and the hands shoving his face down and ass up were sweating. He felt… cold.

"Fuck!" Romano gasped when he was suddenly turned and shoved down onto the ground. He tried to kick the bastard in his face but the look stopped him. Antonio bent his legs back, eyes seemed almost black and soulless like the bulls.

The sunny complexion was drained so pallor that his bruised lips were turned purple. What… the hell? Romano's eyes widened in fear as the excited breathing turned pained. It seemed his bodily function had simply taken over as he kept driving up sickly into Romano.

"Let me… fucking go!" Romano gained some strength and shoved the hands away from him to push at his chest. He shoved and shoved until… something caught his attention. Romano's insides turned liquid as he pushed back Antonio's jacket. There, more than blooming it was now appeared to be an entire field covering his side and front.

Blood.

"STOP! STOP NOW!" Romano screamed as he put his hand against Antonio despite all the rocking and mindless fucking. "STOP! YOU IDIOT!" He screamed loudly, awakening the bulls in their cages. They stomped and snorted loudly, growing excited and loud as Antonio grew quiet. "YOU ARE BLEEDING!" Romano screeched as he pulled his hand away and saw that it was covered.

Antonio wasn't paying attention though, his hips were shaking put continuing their final attempts at assault. To finish the job and take everything from Romano like he had to all the bulls.

"UGH!" Romano reached up and slapped Antonio across the face to snap it out of him. Vile, horrid, sinful creature or not he was bleeding to death. The red handprint left in his wake was stark against Antonio's pale skin.

He instantly caught Romano's hand by the wrist and shoved it down, his face dropping down to the crevasse of Romano's neck. Now that he could see the blood he noticed down it dripped down onto him… onto his chest….

No, fuck no, that wasn't from the jacket.

"_I'm going to hell because of you_…." Antonio repeated the words he'd sworn Romano had said. But they were gargled and pained. He held on with his last bit of strength and pulled back from Romano. Blood was bubbling and leaking out from his mouth as if he'd ripped the very heart out of him. It was internal bleeding.

"GET AWAY!" Romano screamed again, loudly as he tried to pull away but Antonio kept him caged. He was dying and kept he stared at him from under his brow, the bulls in hysterics to the point that Romano almost thought it was a crowd cheering.

"_Hail, Mary, full…. of grace." _Antonio croaked out as he coughed up another round of blood right onto Romano's chest. The blood dribbled and pooled as Romano gasped shrilly. It was like a bull, coughing blood, matting everything around it with its hot, coppery smell in the moment before collapsing. Romano shook violently, unable to move or say anything. The pain in his entrance was dulled by the horror of what he was witnessing.

"_The Lord is with thee. Blessed…. a-art though…. among women_." Antonio's body had broken into a full sweat as he loomed over Romano, rutting and dying all at once. "_And bless is the… the fruit of thy womb J-Jesus."_ The blood spread all along his front as he kept moving like nothing on earth could stop him. "_Holy Mary, mother of God."_

"No. No, no, NO!" Romano repeated in desperation as Antonio neared the end of the prayer. His cock was beginning to soften from blood loss inside of Romano.

His voice deepened and a smile, sickly and red stretched across his mouth. "_Pray for us sinners._" He licked his covered lips and Romano almost wondered if he knew this was going to happen. If Antonio had been struck and then planned this all, to leave the word dominating one final thing.

The bulls were thrashing against their cages, kicking them and bucking.

"_Now,_" Antonio's nose started to bleed and it all seeped off his face onto Romano, "_and at the hour… hng… of our…" _The words were barely making it out of Antonio's mouth, his bloody lips struggling to form the words. He let out a loud, guttural groan. Warmth flooded up inside of Romano, coating him. He was too terrified to even think if it was the filth's seed or just more blood. There was blood everywhere.

"Sto-."

"_Of our death."_

Antonio cough up more blood, choking as he tried to swallow it back. Romano was pressed against the barn floor, covered in Antonio's blood. He wobbled to and fro like the bulls. He knew what would happen and started to squirm desperately as pain surged all below the waist.

"_A….men."_

Antonio pulled out of Romano with the last bit of strength he had, and Romano could practically hear the tear of skin as he did. Eyes rolled back, the whites exposed before with one final sway… Antonio collapsed onto Romano.

There was a smile plastered on his face and he stared lifelessly out towards the cages of bulls going wild.

Romano screamed his throat raw.

* * *

So. Yeah. Uhm... wow. I said I would finish it and I did. This was how it was always going to end, and I had said from the get go it wouldn't be nice. In fact I said I was exploring the fucked up side of Antonio... so I did.

Though it is interesting coming back to this story. You will be able to see a difference near the end when I wrote it more than a year later and did not have the same interest. I wanted to finish it though for you all since you seemed to really like it. I apologize if it's not what you were expecting.

I have pretty much moved on from fan fiction, I dabble here and there and may post some stuff on AO3 but now that I'm in university and living a life outside of writing... I just don't have the time anymore. :( Which sucks, because it was lots of fun. I improved immeasurably by writing fanfiction and I encourage every single one of you who has ever though about doing it just to do it.

Love you all lots and thanks for making me adore writing as much as I do.


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